The Speculum Curse
by Hyphen
Summary: It's the day before a big Quidditch game, and James is acting very strangely. Could it be a Slytherin curse? And can the other Marauders help?
1. Act I: James

  
This is the first chapter of a Hogwarts Marauders story. It's a happy, fluffy, and (hopefully) humorous piece, in which I get to torture James a bit.   
  
  
  
  
  
THE SPECULUM CURSE  
ACT I: JAMES   
  
  
  
It all started as they were running down the Twisting Staircase (late for Transfiguration, as usual.) They had vaulted over only a few steps when James, in the lead, made an odd strangled sound. He stopped short, reeling and grabbing for the banister. It did not seem to help: losing his balance, he collapsed by the wall in a contorted heap.  
  
Peter, right behind him, tried to change direction to avoid running right into his friend. Naturally, he overbalanced, and spent a few desperate moments leaning over the precipice, arms waving madly.  
  
It was fortunate indeed that Remus and Sirius both made a quick grab for his robes and were able to pull him upright with only the minimum of ripping sounds and near-strangulation. A brief moment was then spent in readjusting Peter's robes, and forcing Sirius to step off Remus' foot.  
  
Only once this little episode was over did everyone turn their attention back to James, who was still down. Crouched by the wall, hugging his knees with his eyes screwed shut, he was as far from a picture of a confident Quiddich captain as one can normally get.   
  
"James?" Peter asked timidly, touching his shoulder, "Are you alright, James? Your face is as green as an old pickled toad."  
  
"Dizzy", was all James would (or could) say.  
  
Sirius backed away a little. "Don't you look at _me_," he announced preemptively, "I have _not_ been poisoning him."  
  
"Hmm," Remus rubbed his chin, "Seems more like vertigo than like poison to me..."  
  
"Have not been casting vertigo charms, either..."  
  
"The question of the moment," Remus announced, ignoring Sirius and approaching James, "is, can you stand up?"  
  
"Yes, we're late for class," Peter added, anxiously, tugging on James' arm.  
  
Eventually, they managed to get James into a vertical state, even if separating him from the wall proved too much to ask. Leaning on said wall as well as on Remus, pulled by Peter, and pushed (not VERY roughly) by Sirius, a trembling James made his way slowly down the staircase.  
  
Still, he would say nothing. It was all very odd and troubling.  
  
"Shouldn't we take him to see Madam Pomfrey?" was Peter's question.  
  
"No! No! Are you insane?" Sirius leapt towards him. "What if she makes him stay in bed? Through tomorrow? During the Quiddich game? That's a risk we cannot afford to take!"  
  
"What if he's really sick?" Peter countered.  
  
But Sirius' eyes had taken on a mad gleam. "We're playing _SLYTHERIN_!" he shouted, shaking Peter by the shoulders.  
  
Remus, meanwhile, was clearly lost in though, his eyes lighting up with suspicion. "Yes, the Quiddich game," he began. "Isn't it slightly odd that the Gryffindor Seeker should feel vertigo the day before we play Slytherin?"  
  
"Those bastards!" Sirius let go of the shaken Peter and clenched his fists. "They've gone and cast a spell on him! Or something!"  
  
"You don't mean this will last until tomorrow!" Peter moaned.  
  
"Not necessarily if it was done by a gormless idiot like Snape," Sirius reassured him. "But, if it is Snape, I'll get him. Actually, I think I'll get him even if it isn't him."  
  
"Yes, very good," Remus murmured, distracted by dragging James down the last few steps. "I suggest we take no drastic steps until we have a better idea of what is going on. Alright, James?" He asked, seeing as they were now back on solid flat ground.  
  
"Uh, yeah. And, thanks for getting me down that, guys. You are all such wonderful pals. I do not deserve you," James stammered out, and the others exchanged still-worried looks.  
  
  
  
The worried looks turned out to be entirely justified. James' bizarre behaviour continued throughout Transfiguration. He actually seemed to be paying attention. Furthermore, when Professor McGonagall turned a scrap of parchment into a moth, he jumped up with a little start. It was almost as if he'd been frightened! Not even Peter was _that_ scared of insects!  
  
Fortunately, Sirius was able to distract him before anyone else had noticed anything.  
  
"Wow, that insect looks just like Professor Trelawny!" he exclaimed breathlessly. And accurately. "Think it's deliberate?"  
  
"I wish it was," Remus put in. "But it's probably just a subconscious reflex. What do YOU think, James?"  
  
"Yes... no..." James was obviously flustered by his friends' anxious looks. "I d-don't know."  
  
Unfortunately, this last statement lacked the usual nonchalance and near-ventriloquism that the Marauders had perfected over the last three years. As such it drew the Professor's attention. While Peter attempted to conceal himself behind his hastily open book, she turned her attentive eye on James.  
  
"Potter," she began dryly. "I must agree that there are obviously many things you still don't know, and talking in class will not help to remedy the situation. I do, however, hope that you know at least one of the precautions one must take when turning an inanimate object into an animate one. I'd like to hear your thoughts on the subject," she finished, gazing at James levelly.  
  
"Erm," was all James could say, turning bright red and looking wildly in all directions but hers.  
  
The Professor was just as confused by this as anybody. "Is this some sort of a game, Potter?" she asked, now starting to look slightly miffed. "I do not recall having ever seen you so lost for words before."  
  
James' only reply was to look more distressed. Almost as if he were about to cry. So, fearing for his friend's reputation, Sirius just had to speak up.  
  
"He's, um, pretending to be Peter, Professor," he explained hastily. "It's a sort of bet we've made - we have to swap personalities for a day. Amusing, isn't it?" He grinned hopefully.  
  
"That's right!" Remus piped up as the Professor looked on suspiciously. "And... I must warn you that I am Sirius, and so I MAY later be setting fire to my moth."  
  
"And I, being Remus," Sirius announced in mellifluous BBC tones, "may later be commenting on how lovely you..."  
  
He was forced to stop before he got to the good part, not by Remus' dark growl, but by Peter's unexpected contribution.  
  
"I... am... James," Peter said, his quivering voice growing firmer with each word, "and so _I_ should answer. And I would say that the main precaution would be to make sure that the transformation is complete enough for the creature to be viable before casting Animo. To avoid unpleasant side-effects like random bloodspurts and such. And," he pushed on in desperation under the Professor's glare, "one should also make sure you can control or restrain the creature, if it's a dangerous one. Finally," he continued, mouth twisting into a slightly insane smile, "it is quite important to make sure that whoever the creature is to resemble is not present in the room."  
  
This pronouncement was followed by shocked silence. Professor McGonagall took a long look at her Trelawny moth, as her expression fluttered between shock, amusement, anger, and pleasant surprise.  
  
Finally, the more positive emotions seemed to win out as she turned back to Peter. "Your little games never cease to amaze me... _Potter_," she said. "Nevertheless, you are correct. As a punishment, however," she continued, and Peter's spirits sank, "I am afraid I will have to count the answer towards _Pettigrew_'s grade. It might help him make a B, this term."  
  
The boys grinned at each other as she walked away. At least, three of them did. James was still looking utterly shell-shocked.  
  
  
  
Peter was beaming as they left the classroom. "Did you see that?" he asked Remus.  
  
"Well, obviously!" Remus answered, "That was some quick thinking, Peter. And some good acting, too. You _are_ the hero of the hour, indeed."  
  
At that point, James seized and shook the hand of the hero of the hour. "Thank you, Peter," he said, emotionally, "I will never, ever forget this. Not as long as I live. And now," he addressed the whole group, "I think I had better go see Madame Pomfrey. I feel a bit... faint."  
  
"You will do nothing of the kind," Sirius barked out, pulling James towards the History Of Magic classroom. "Think of Gryffindor, you idiot!"  
  
To everyone's resigned surprise, James did not object, not even to the insult. So they all walked on, pondering the sad fact that life would lose quite a bit of spice without regular Sirius-James fights.  
  
"Incidentally, Sirius," Remus said at some length. His tone was tense: perhaps he was aiming to start a new, alternative, fight tradition. "Did you really have to compliment the Professor in my name? Your little joke is getting quite stale, and I do _not_ appreciate having it made public."  
  
"A real man is not afraid to speak of his love," said Sirius, his hand on his heart. The dramatic effect was spoiled somewhat by the sudden movement he had to make to dodge Remus' fists.. "Anyway, _you_'re the one who was trying to delve into the depths of her subconscious," he explained, running into the classroom.  
  
Remus gave up on protecting the (alleged) secrets of his heart, and decided to address a few comforting words to James. "Don't worry, it's only Professor Binns now" he said, "You can pretend to sleep, if you like. And afterwards, we have a free afternoon. We'll try to figure out what's going on - maybe at the library."  
  
"You think the library is the solution to _everything_!" Peter exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "I'm still being James," he explained in answer to Remus' puzzled look.  
  
  
  
Well, where else _could_ they start looking? Perhaps within James' memory, Remus decided, as they made their way towards the library after class.  
  
"Um, James," he said as gently as he could, though still provoking a slight jump, "Do you remember anything unusual happening before we went down That Staircase?"  
  
"Well, we had a fight with the Slytherins," James suggested timidly, after some thought.  
  
"Remus did say _unusual_," Sirius pointed out, helpfully. "One thing about that fight, though," he continued, "We do know you were acting normal (normal for you, that is) up until virtually the last moment."  
  
"Yeah," said Peter, admiringly. "After Niccolo slapped you with that mirror he was carrying, I thought you were going to break his nose. The nose he'd inherited from his ogre father and unchoosy goblin mother, I believe you said," he continued, in an attempt to remind James of his more glorious past.   
  
"That mirror," Remus furrowed his brow, "I wonder why they needed that mirror?"  
  
"Well, they did explain they wanted to give him one last look at his face before it was destroyed by bludgers," Sirius answered. "You're right though, it does seem unusually thoughtful."  
  
"Yes, I do think we should keep an eye out for mentions of mirrors," was Remus' conclusion.  
  
This was followed by a few minutes of discreet silence as they passed a group of studious Ravenclaw sixth-years with bulky backpacks. A clear sign that the library was drawing close.  
  
"What else should we be looking for, though?" Peter re-opened the discussion once they were alone again. "James?"  
  
The query, most likely made only out of long-standing habit, threw James into another tizzy. "I don't know," he said earnestly, "You know I'm an absolute duffer at the idea side of things."  
  
Sirius, who had accused James of exactly that on numerous occasions, was obviously worried: with unusual tact, he did nothing to express his agreement. Instead, he made a suggestion. "I think we should check out the Quiddich section. Since we believe it's an anti-Quiddich spell. After all, the Slytherins must have found inspiration somewhere."  
  
"Good idea," said Remus appreciatively. "I hadn't thought of that! My idea, inspired by our Transfiguration cover story," he explained, "was that it is some sort of serious personality-altering curse. We did them in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Of course," he added resignedly, "that was the day when you were trying to charm that toad so it would go up Snape's robes."  
  
"How were we to know that it was a toad of taste?" Sirius sighed.  
  
"Yeah, I don't think I've ever seem a toad hop away so fast," Peter said wonderingly. "_Or_ look so repulsed. And that includes the one you flushed down the prefects' toilet."  
  
"Oh, right. I forgot about that!" Remus exclaimed, turning towards Sirius with a smirk. "See, I told you it was _not_ going to grow abnormally large and return to take its revenge."  
  
"Have some faith!" Sirius suggested. "It's only been two years."  
  
"Oh!" James was, again, flustered. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see a giant toad. "What if it comes back and takes its revenge on _us_?"  
  
"That personality-altering curse seems to be pretty powerful stuff," Peter whimpered.  
  
"Don't worry, the curse is just the worst-case scenario," Remus reassured him. "It's quite possible that it's some sort of simple, er, wimpyfying charm," he said with an apologetic look at James, who only shrugged meekly in reply. "But it seems a bit more complex than that, if we look at all the symptoms..."  
  
"Yeah, the symptoms! I almost forgot," Sirius exclaimed, "I wrote them down during class!" Pausing at the library door, he rifled through his bag, eventually extracting a crumpled piece of parchment. "I'd better get started on the Quiddich section, then," he announced, making as if to enter.  
  
"You seem awfully eager. Make sure you don't get lost in reading 'The Snitch And Its Snatchability' or something," Remus advised.  
  
"Yes, Mother! Honestly, Remus, are you kidding? The _QUIDDICH CUP_ is at stake here!" Sirius shot back, before disappearing.  
  
"I'll go and look up charms if you handle curses," Peter suggested. "Remember, I've looked at courage charms before - this could be a simple inverse or something."  
  
"Perfect," Remus answered, "What about you, James?"  
  
"I don't know why you guys are even bothering," sniffed James, staring at Sirius' list. "Just look at this: I'm hopeless."  
  
So they all looked at the list, which read:  
  
SYMPTOMS  
Has vertigo  
Whines like a little girl  
Is as cowardly as a girly mouse  
Acts wishy-washy  
Follows suggestions like a sheep. Girly sheep, I mean.  
May have turned stupid?  
Note to self: read up on exorcising Professor Binns.  
  
A further entry had been added, in scribbly, tentative handwriting that still bore a shadow of a resemblance to James':  
is pathetic and worthless  
  
"Hmm. I think Sirius my have missed one out. 'Has an inferiority complex'.", Remus murmured. "Anyway, James," he continued with a smile, "perhaps you could look through the basic texts? There's always a chance it's something really simple."  
  
James didn't even bother to answer. He just grabbed several oversized, large-print books filled with colourful, friendly pictures of cute critters, and slumped down at a library table quite far away from Madame Pince.   
  
His friends disappeared among the stacks.  
  
  
  
For hours and hours, they toiled among the dusty volumes. Peter was starting to develop quite a cough. Sirius was also making odd noises, but in his case they sounded more like suppressed laughter.   
  
Fearing that his friend had lost focus as predicted, Remus decided to check on him. He was right: no sooner had he entered the relevant aisle that he was grabbed by the shoulder, an open book thrust into his arms.  
  
"Just look at this!" Sirius giggled, pointing at a picture. "Living goal-posts! You throw a quaffle at them, and they throw it back! And here," he continued "is an action-shot of a bludger enchanted to go for the, um, family jewels of all the male players on the opposing team!"  
  
"Hilarious," a stone-faced Remus said. "And very relevant."  
  
"Oh, keep your fur on!" Sirius said. "Actually, it turns out that mucking about with the players' heads is not a very popular form of Quiddich distraction. Their bodies, yes; the equipment, yes; and, as we have seen, combinations of bodies and equipment, definitely. But, psychologically, the only really interesting event took place during the 1974 World Cup play-offs. French Seeker Vichy was bewitched to fall in love with Bulgarian Beating Champion Popova! Unfortunately, this Bulgarian plot backfired slightly, as the French national team has since been greatly improved by the addition of four of the Vichy children... "  
  
"Go on," Peter, who had decided to join them, seemed very interested.  
  
"Not you too, Peter," Remus sighed, "is anyone here even looking any more?"  
  
"No point," was Peter's sad reply, "you were right: charms tend to be less complicated. And I guess you aren't having any luck, either?"  
  
"Actually, I am having _too_ much luck," Remus explained. "There are many curses that make people act out of character. The Imperius curse for one; personality swaps, for another. Also, a curse that makes people regress in terms of mental age," he added with a pointed look at Sirius, "and a wide assortment of more specific spells. No idea which one we're dealing with, though, without further information. I have thought of a few experiments we could try..."  
  
"Experiments?" James, who had just walked up, seemed rather alarmed.  
  
"Remus, shh, you're alarming James," Peter whispered.  
  
"Yeah, Remus, stop it." Sirius said. "Alarming James is my job."  
  
To make his point, he suddenly turned towards James, making a hideous face and emitting eerie moaning noises. James stepped back, covering his eyes with his hands.   
  
The effect on Remus was similar: he passed a hand over his eyes with a sigh.  
  
"Anyway," Sirius announced at this point. "I suggest that we make use of some of _my_ discoveries by, to begin with, enchanting some bludgers. Then, our time will not have been wasted, even if we haven't really found anything..."  
  
"Oh, _I_ found something a couple of hours ago," James said quietly.  
  
"Really? What is it?" Remus asked quickly before the others could barge in.  
  
"Something that makes no sense," James was obviously made uncomfortable by all the attention. " I've got this weird symbol on my arm..."  
  
And so he did! It was so weird, in fact, that looking at it made them all dizzy...  
  
"Hey!" Peter noticed, "It's right where that mirror hit you!"  
  
"Some curses do leave a small mark on their victim... " Remus mused.  
  
"Yeah, it's to help evil wizards remember what they've cast on whom," Sirius explained. "Hey, don't look at me like I'm making it up, it _is_ what Binns said."  
  
"I'm shocked. You were listening to Binns?" Remus _was_ looking shocked.  
  
"Well, it was a slow day. You were... off sick, and James and I were having a minor disagreement, over that dye I had put in his shampoo."  
  
"Well, some people are _still_ calling me Potter the Purple," James whined apologetically.  
  
"But what is it a mark _of_?" Peter had obviously (and wisely) decided to tune out all squabbles.  
  
"Wait a moment," Remus said. "I think there is a list of marks in 'Curious Curses'!"   
  
He rushed off, back to the Curse section.  
  
The others, meanwhile, decided to wait by the interesting Quiddich books.  
  
"Incidentally, James," Sirius just had to know, "Couldn't you have told us about this earlier?"  
  
"Well, yes," James explained, "But I thought you'd rather figure it out for yourselves."  
  
He clearly meant it, and kindly. Somehow, that only made it all the more irritating.  
  
"If you were a man, I'd hit you," Sirius growled, but depressingly enough even this extreme insult failed to rouse his old sparring partner. He started wondering what effect a knock on the head would have.  
  
Fortunately, right at that dangerous moment Remus reappeared. He was stomping, his eyes were narrowed anger: this had to be serious.  
  
"Someone's ripped out some of the pages!" he growled. "Slytherin scum! Imagine that - _ripping pages out of a book_!" To make his point, he held up the mutilated copy of 'Curious Curses' which seemed to be moaning softly. It was obviously fishing for attention, as it had been entirely quiet earlier.  
  
"You'll help me enchant the bludgers, then?" Sirius asked, trying to strike while the iron's hot.  
  
"I hope no-one thinks it was us who hurt the book," Peter said, half to himself.  
  
At that point, before Remus could make any further comments, James raced out of the stacks.  
  
"Ah, I hope you two are very proud of yourselves." Sirius declared. "You've gone and scared him off."  
  
James did not, however, look scared off at all when they finally caught up with him. Which was a nice change, considering the day's events. Instead, he was lost in one of the colourful books he'd been reading earlier. The title filled them with hope: it was "Curious Curses: a Children's Compendium." They crowded behind him, trying to read over his shoulder (quite difficult, as he was the tallest.)  
  
And there they saw it: there on the page, right beside the mark on James' forearm, was the identical mark, together with the caption:  
  
"The Speculum Curse: rather icky."  
  
Even Remus had to agree that it was a start.  
  
  
  
The library closed soon afterward, but this was not a bad thing. They were fed up and hungry, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that every relevant book in the Curse section had been either taken out or mutilated. The restricted section was their remaining hope.  
  
"That's fine. The restricted section is more likely to be helpful, anyway," was Remus' opinion.  
  
"That's great! The restricted section kicks ass!" was Sirius'.  
  
They decided that the two of them would visit it that night, wearing James' invisibility cloak.  
  
In the meantime, however, they needed some food. As the general consensus was that James should be kept far, far away from any and all Slytherins, they couldn't well all go to dinner. It was decided that only a party of two should go down there and steal enough to feed the others.  
  
This party was made up of Remus, and, at his own emphatic request, Peter. Sirius was left behind to "keep an eye on things". This was rather wise in retrospect, given his tendency to attack any Slytherin who looked at him funny.   
  
  
  
Throughout dinner, Remus and Peter had to put up with malicious glances and sniggers coming from the Slytherin table. The former actually made it pretty hard to sneak potatoes and sausages into their pockets, and the latter _really_ got on their nerves. What was even worse was the group of Slytherins who accosted them as they were leaving.  
  
"Where's the great Purple Potter, then?" D'Uberville, one of the Slytherin beaters, asked with a sly grin.  
  
"Extra Quiddich practice, of course," Remus replied, walking on briskly. Unfortunately, the Slytherins followed.  
  
"Oh, Potter is flying right now, is he?" Snape sniggered. "I wish I could see that... But what about his insane friend, Black? You're not telling me he's at the practice, too?"  
  
"Yeah, not very likely, is it?" D'Uberville commented. "Not after being kicked off the team for repeated frivolous fouling..."  
  
"Some might assume from his absence," Remus answered evenly, "That he's been reinstated as a Beater."  
  
This statement had the intended effect of making D'Uberville, and, indeed, the rest of the Slytherin squad, rather nervous. Peter smirked.  
  
"Yes, of course," Snape said, after a moment's thought. "You Gryffindors may well need all the reserves you can get. Anyway, we'll see who's laughing tomorrow, after we slaughter your little team. You'll never get the Cup, now." He smiled in a very oily fashion.  
  
It would not have been all that upsetting had it not seemed so probable. Peter, for one, could not bear it.  
  
"Yeah! Right!" He yelled out shrilly, surprising Remus. "Not likely! None of you Slytherin... Quiddich guys can tell your ass from your... _BUTT_!"  
  
He really looked rather triumphant. Remus pulled him away.  
  
  
  
Peter's sense of triumph soon faded. Left behind in their tower bedroom with James, he was having a hard time coping. James, sprawled out on his bed, seemed to be sinking into depression, and cheering him up was an impossibility.  
  
"Cheer up, James," he smiled encouragingly. "The guys will soon sort it out. They're so smart."   
  
"I'm not sure I want them to," James moaned in reply. "I don't know if I can back to living this... shallow, meaningless existence." Here his gaze swept over his possessions: Quiddich trophies, school prizes, and gifts from his many friends and admirers. "My eyes have been opened, you see..." he continued. "For once, I see myself as I really am!"  
  
Peter looked at him in confused fascination. "You don't mean, smart, brave, noble, and popular?" he asked. "Because, you know, that's how many people see you. Me, for one," he confessed. "Even the teachers say you are Headboy material."  
  
"I bet that all they mean is that my head is big!" James wailed. "Oh, I know I get good grades, but I do not work nearly as hard as I could! I am wasting my gifts! As for my courage - when has my courage ever been tested? Except for the courage to break school rules, oh yes, I like to do that, just to satisfy my curiosity and feed my bloated ego. Where's the nobility in that? I tell you, I am not admirable - just lucky..."  
  
This display of eloquence reminded Peter of a bad broomstick accident he'd once seen: it was horrifying to watch, and yet impossible to turn away from. He felt a bit guilty about that. Moreover, the thought occurred to him that listening to James' wails so attentively was a little bit like staring at his naked body. Edging away a little, he tried to shake off the image.  
  
James didn't notice, and wasn't done talking, anyway. "Only an idiot would admire me..." he sighed.  
  
Now, this had the effect of making Peter mildly annoyed. "But _I_ admire you! And so do Sirius and Remus!"  
  
"Yes, yes, I know you all claim to... But, really, I don't know how you put up with me and my bigheaded ways." James shook his head in despair. "Of course, you are forced to, as we share a room..."  
  
Peter's mood shifted back from annoyance to fascination. That had been a pretty accurate description of his own feelings - apart from the bigheaded part, that it. But how was he supposed to react? Sirius' parting words of advice, "Just ignore him. If you try to joke him out of it, he'll only get worse, I've tried it," didn't seem all that helpful.  
  
Peter's pensive silence had no effect on James and his continued self-loathing. "And you, Peter - I can't tell you how sorry I am for all the times I made fun of you. And especially for that time I shrank your robes so you'd think you'd gained weight..."  
  
This was news to Peter. He wasn't sure if he should be upset at being toyed with, or happy that his weight gain had been imaginary.   
  
Deciding to ignore the issue for now, he walked over to James and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. James should appreciate that - he was a great believer in back-slapping and similar gestures. "Just... calm down, James," he said slowly. "We will sort it all out. We want to help you!" As he said this, he was struck by an idea. He looked over at James' trunk, where, as far as he could recall, James' teddy bear Mr.Paws was still in exile under an old pair of boots.  
  
James, meanwhile, seemed to be considering the last statement. "Well, I would be happy not to be such an embarrassment to you all anymore. I have seen you three giving me that stare you usually reserve for your parents."  
  
This was getting really irritating. "That's not what I meant! James, you are talking nonsense!" Peter had made up his mind. He knelt down by James' trunk, picturing in his mind's eye the comfort a stuffed toy could provide...  
  
  
  
Fortunately, at that point he heard two dueling voices on the stairs. And, a moment later, Sirius burst in. To be more precise, Sirius' head and Sirius' legs burst in, separated by what could only be James' invisibility cloak. The head bore a secretive expression he had picked up from old pictures of undercover agents, while the legs moved in a quick, furtive manner. Only once he had reached the middle of the room did he pause, and toss off the cloak with a dramatic flourish.  
  
"Hail the conquering heroes! We've done it again!" he exclaimed.  
  
Remus, coming in behind him, had to put down the books he'd been carrying before removing the cloak from his head. He started to fold it, his expression neutral with just perhaps a tinge of annoyance.  
  
"No, Sirius. We haven't 'done it.'" he said. "We _have_ made a start, though," he explained, seeing Peter's crestfallen look.  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes and picked a book titled "The Self Bespelled."  
  
"Judge for yourselves," he announced, before reading out loud in a deep, booming voice:  
  
"The Speculum curse takes the spirit of the cursed and reflects it as if in a mirror, revealing much that had before been hidden. While far from uncomplicated to cast, it is not unsimple to break."  
  
While the others tried to work that out, Sirius looked up. "I found that," he added, modestly.  
  
"Easy to remove! Yay! Well?" Peter asked, "Go on, Sirius."  
  
Sirius made a face. Looking back down, he put on a very good impersonation of a man reading nothing, lips moving uselessly.  
  
"We need a fish!" Peter decided. He looked over at James with concern: what if fish were one of the things that his friend not found frightening? Peter himself had to admit that a glassy-eyed stuffed fish hanging at his uncle's house had once given him nightmares.  
  
"Well, a fish _might_ be more useful than Sirius in our current predicament," Remus murmured. "Because the fact is, the book stops right there. We still have no idea how to remove the curse for good."  
  
"But you came back?" James was confused.  
  
"For that, you should blame Remus," Sirius informed him. "He's found something too, and he's being very pushy. Should have expected it, really," he continued philosophicaly, "Now that James is... unavailable, poor Remus is quite desperate to assume the position of alpha male."  
  
Remus decided to ignore this slur for now. "What I've found," he explained, "is a way to move the curse onto another person. It's kind of like a standard Magic Transfer..."  
  
"Oh yeah, and we _all_ know about those," Peter whispered to himself.  
  
"_But_, " Remus continued, "It requires that the two people concerned be in physical contact for at least six hours. Which would let James make the Quiddich game, but only if we start pretty soon."  
  
"You know, Remus," Sirius frowned, "Now that you say it in here, it makes perfect sense. We can just tie the two people together, and get some sleep. I presume," he yawned, "that you'll be volunteering to take on the curse?"  
  
Remus shrugged resignedly. Peter, meanwhile, had been thinking hard.  
  
"No, I'll do it," he said, "I'd be happy to. _Really_."  
  
Sirius grinned at him in surprise. "That's why I like you, Peter," he said. "You seem all quiet and normal, but occasionally you reveal your true, weird nature. You'd better hope, though," he added conspiratorially, "that no-one comes up to our tower tonight, or they might get the wrong idea..."  
  
  
  
_ Will anyone come up to the tower? Will the transfer spell work? And, if so, how will Peter be affected by the Speculum Curse? Most importantly, will Gryffindor beat Slytherin at Quiddich? Read the next chapter, and find out..._  
  
  
  
  
You could also go read one of my other stories. They're all at least mildly humorous, and they all feature characters belonging to J K Rowling. And I do NOT intend to make any money off any of them.   
Oh, and do write reviews! Criticise me, certainly, but also tell me what you'd like to see more of.   



	2. Act II: Peter

  
This is Act II of my Speculum Curse story. I am including a brief summary of Act I below, although I do hope that my intelligent readers will understand that reading the actual piece will be much better.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE SPECULUM CURSE  
ACT II: PETER   
  
  
_The story so far: The Slytherins have cast a serious personality-altering spell, the Speculum Curse, on James. The Marauders have thus far been able to figure out how to transfer it to another victim, but not how to break it. Because of an upcoming Gryffindor-Slytherin Quiddich match, the curse has been transferred to Peter._   
  
  
This time, it all began at dawn. Remus, a very light sleeper, was the first to be awakened by the grunting. When the grunting was followed by a kind of dull thump, and then more grunting and more hollow noises, James and Sirius stirred as well.  
  
None of them spoke, at first. They were too busy staring at the floor in the center of the room. More precisely, at the rug on which Peter was doing push-ups.  
  
"This has got to be my most vivid dream ever," Remus whispered.  
  
"It is _not_ a dream," Sirius countered. "It's not weird enough."  
  
"You're only saying that because everyone has all their limbs on," Remus answered quietly, "_I_ think it's weirder than that custard dream you had last week..."  
  
"It was _jelly_, not custard!" Sirius hissed.  
  
James, meanwhile, said nothing.  
  
Under normal circumstances, James' silence would have been an additional source of weirdness. There were simply too many comments just waiting to be made. Give the previous day's events, however, James lack of interest in the pre-breakfast spectacle and his unwillingness to meet his friends' eyes made perfect sense. He was clearly mortified by memories of his shameful behaviour.  
  
Sirius took this in and decided to take steps.  
  
"Oh, hello there, little Jamiekins. How are we feeling this morning?" he began, using the kind of sing-song voice some people use around babies and the very elderly.  
  
James was thrown into confusion, trying out all kinds of threatening glares. But not even his famed "eyes of death" had the desired effect, as Sirius continued.  
  
"Nasty high bed making you dizzy? Nasty tough Peter making you scared? Let's send an owl to your mummy and..."  
  
Sirius never got to finish this helpful suggestion as James, pushed beyond endurance, covered the distance between their two beds in a single leap and put his fists to work. In the resulting confusion, it was possible to see Sirius grinning broadly.  
  
"This is _great_!" he enthused when he could catch his breath between blows. "James is _back_!"  
  
After this brief interlude, he got into the fight siriously.  
  
Remus smiled. He was endlessly impressed by Sirius' ability to resolve complex emotional issues through 'insult therapy.' The fight, however, was pretty generic, so he turned his attention back to Peter and his push-up technique.  
  
It was really very interesting. Peter had the push-up part down: groaning, he could get himself at least halfway off the floor. The ease-down part (less famous, but equally important for muscle development) was another story. After each successful ascent, the aspiring athlete would simply collapse with a thump, and take a little rest. Accustomed to marking time, Remus noted that the rests were getting longer and longer...  
  
Peter's eventual utter collapse coincided with the conclusion of the Sirius-James fight (which ended in a draw.) Stepping out of his bed, Remus surveyed all the fallen bodies.  
  
"What's the plan now, oh fearless leader?" he addressed James.  
  
"First, we breakfast," said James, all back to normal now, "Then, we go to the game where I will make mincemeat out of the Slytherins."  
  
"Those creeps! They're so slimy I'm surprised they don't slide right off their brooms!" Peter yelled, rising from the floor. "Maybe you could give them a little push... Oh, how I wish I was a Beater!" he finished, punching the air.  
  
"Do you, really?" Remus asked, "How _interesting_. You know, guys, I think we might want to take advantage of the confusion and try to find out a bit more about this curse."  
  
"And miss the game? You _can't_!" James did not look offended; rather, he seemed overwhelmed by the depth of his friend's capacity for self-sacrifice. "Now that the Quiddich is safe, I say we take Peter to see Madam Pomfrey and let her handle it all."  
  
"We might get into trouble for not having done so before... And for having worked serious curse-transfer magic all on our own..." Remus shrugged. He was not used to being _quite_ this much of a prig, it was normally Peter's job, but Peter was clearly not up to it at the moment. Judging by his outraged expression, that is.  
  
"I can't believe you two," Peter presently sputtered. "You're forgetting the most important thing..."  
  
"...the Slytherins, and the satisfaction the will feel when we admit we have been defeated by their curse!" Sirius finished for him.  
  
"Right!" Peter exclaimed, leaping up. The two exchanged high-fives.  
  
Thus, the decision _not_ to inform any adults was reached democratically. As was the decision _not_ to go to the library, since Peter was "obviously perfectly fine" according to everyone other than Remus. The decision to go and eat was unanimous.  
  
  
  
Breakfast was a real pleasure. Still hungry from the previous day's deprivations, they could finally stuff their faces with all types of greasy, sticky food. Moreover, the Slytherins' snickering was now rather amusing. James felt particularly smug.  
  
"Maybe I should stand on this chair," he suggested. "Prove I have a head for heights, give them something to think about..."  
  
"No! Don't!" Peter was quite emphatic about it. "I plan to make several bets on today's game, so please play it cool. You're in, as well, Sirius, right?"  
  
"Oh yes. Great idea, Peter," Sirius nodded appreciatively. "James, do you think you could look a bit sicker? Maybe twitch with fear occasionally? It would improve the odds."  
  
"I refuse to be dishonest, even before the Slytherins," James announced haughtily.  
  
"Taking our founder's name in vain, are you, Potter?" Severus Snape and Don Rosier had, once again, decided to come over and gloat. "Glad to hear it! It's good practice for later, when you'll call it as you plead for our mercy," Snape smirked, leaning on the table right in James' face.  
  
All along the Gryffindor table, conversation dwindled as students turned to watch. These little altercations usually made for fine breakfast theatre.  
  
"'_Our_ mercy', Severus?" Remus asked in wide-eyed innocence. "Are you on the team these days?"  
  
"No, Remus," Sirius explained helpfully, "Not even the Slytherins can be _that_ desperate! You must remember that _chickens_ have been known to outfly poor Snape."  
  
"I just _know_ you had enchanted that chicken, Black," Snape hissed. "But I also know that there'll be only _one_ chicken on the field tonight: James Potter."  
  
Peter had been stewing silently by James' side, but this insult proved too much for him to take.  
  
"That's it, Snape," he stated abruptly. "I've had enough. I am now going to kick your ass." He started rolling up his sleeves. His friends looked on with wonder, prepared to step in if necessary.  
  
"Wouldn't you rather kick my _butt_?" Snape asked helpfully. Obviously, the threat didn't strike him as all that serious.  
  
"Pick one," Peter attempted a squeaky growl, a strange gleam in his eye.  
  
Snape laughed.  
  
At that moment, several things happened in a blur. Giving his friends no time to react, Peter disappeared, diving under the tablecloth. Remus did manage to grab one of his feet, but not before Snape had emitted a shrill yell. Doing his best to look threatening, not an easy effect to achieve while hopping up and down on one foot, Snape pulled out his wand and stepped forward...  
  
Only to be stopped by a hand clamping down on his shoulder.  
  
"What's going on here, Snape, Rosier?" Professor McGonagall demanded to know. "Aren't you a bit far from your seats?" Full of suspicion, she glanced at the Marauders, just in time to see Peter emerging from under the table. "What... Oh, I see," she announced, fixing Snape firmly with outraged eyes. "You should be ashamed of yourself, frightening Pettigrew into hiding!"  
  
"But, P-professor!" Snape stammered, "_Pettigrew_ attacked _me_!"  
  
Peter, who was looking rather ruffled, seemed to be struggling to speak, perhaps even to confirm Snape's words. Strangely, he seemed unable to.  
  
"A likely story," said the Professor truthfully. "Ten points for Slytherin! And if I catch you bullying Pettigrew, or _anyone else_ again, it'll go far worse for you. Now, off you go," she finished, directing the Slytherins towards their table, where Professor Asquith awaited, twirling his moustache.  
  
It took only a few moments for the buzz round the Gryffindor table to resume. The incident had not seemed all _that_ unusual to the uninformed bystander. Peter's friends, however, knew better, and gave him some rather thoughtful looks. It soon became obvious that their choking on something. Choosing violence over magic, Sirius slapped him hard on the back.  
  
"Harph!" Peter spat out something that looked like a chewed piece of leather. "What tasteless boots that Snape wears! Doesn't exactly taste like candy himself, either," he commented.  
  
"You know, Peter," Remus was the first to reply, "Ferociously courageous as your action was, I don't think it has helped your bet any. It really looks as if the Slytherins now suspect something."  
  
Everyone looked over at the exit, where a largish group of older Slytherins was disappearing, lost in heated discussion.  
  
"That reminds me," Peter announced, getting up. "I must hurry to the Quiddich field. I have to see some people about some bets,"  
  
"Don't you think you'd better go and do some research on the curse _now_?" James whispered to Remus.  
  
"Yes," Remus whispered back, "But I don't think we can let Peter out alone..."  
  
"I'll be only too happy to be his minder," Sirius murmured. Full of enthusiasm, he set off after his friend.  
  
Peter was not fazed at all by any of this whispering, which was perhaps the strangest thing of all. He strode forth from the hall proudly like a latter-day Napoleon, hardly deigning to notice as Sirius caught up with him.  
  
"Good luck, Sirius!" Remus shouted after them. "Something tells me he'll need it," he muttered to James as they walked out behind the two underage bookies.  
  
But James was not really listening. "Um, Remus," he started, "Do you think Sirius will stop teasing me about, well, yesterday, if I sit him down and ask him not to?"  
  
Remus grinned. "You mean, if you sit him down and tell him it really bothers you? No."  
  
"That's what I thought," James sighed.  
  
"Don't worry," Remus comforted him, "Soon, you'll do something even more embarrassing and then he'll move onto _that_."  
  
  
  
As a result of the incidents outlined above, James, the Gryffindor captain, got to the changing room a bit late. Disliking favouritism, he made a point of telling himself off in front of the rest of the team. His newly-learnt humility helped him a little, there. Afterwards, he gave the usual pep-talk as he changed into his scarlet robes.  
  
"OK, team, listen to me. We're about to play the Slytherins," he began. "Now, we know we're faster..."  
  
"Aye-aye, Captain!" the team replied as one.  
  
"We know we're smarter..."  
  
"Aye-aye, Captain!"  
  
"We know we're just plain better!"  
  
"Aye-aye, Captain!"  
  
"So let's play that way, and not let our pity for those sad Slytherins and their disappointed, weeping parents cloud our eyes or our judgement!"  
  
"AYE-AYE, CAPTAIN!" Everyone yelled loudly, particularly Chaser Livia Loki, who had familial reasons to enjoy the cheer she'd helped write.  
  
  
  
Sirius and Peter, meanwhile, had set up their betting operation at the side of the stands, out of the sight of the teachers. It was quite popular, in part because Peter insisted on accepting any number of frivolous and irrelevant bets.  
  
"Peter, calm down," Sirius eventually had to advise him. "We're here to make money off James' athletic ability and our own intelligence, not to count how many times Toedlicher-Schnapps cleans her monocle before the first foul. You should _never_ bet without insider information, anyway."  
  
"Oh, don't worry so much, Sirius," Peter replied airily. "Where's your sense of fun?"  
  
"Want to take part in _my_ big bet?" Livia was just walking out onto the field, carrying her fine-tuned broom.  
  
"_No_," Sirius stated emphatically, stepping on Peter's foot. "Why would anyone in their right mind bet you that you _won't_ be able to date at least one guy from each house this year?" He sent her a dazzling lady-killer smile. "It doesn't seem like much of a challenge. Not for you, I mean."  
  
Peter kept silent, although he was clearly disgusted by his friend's unmanly behaviour.  
  
"You'd be surprised how much of a challenge it becomes if you tell everybody," Livia shrugged, dismissing the flirtation. "I mean, even you little _fifth_ years seem to know all about it. Well, see me if you change your minds," she tossed out over her shoulder, flying off to take her position.  
  
Now that the game was clearly about to start, the two underage bookies started to gather their money and records. Suddenly, something in the nearby stands suddenly caught Peter's attention.  
  
"I see Snape's nose!" he exclaimed. "Hold on, Sirius, I have some unfinished business to attend to." Throwing his shoulders back, he disappeared into the crowd.  
  
With an unaccustomed sense of impeding doom, Sirius hurried behind him. A small man can, however, move through a crowd much faster, especially if he has a good line in knees and elbows, and so he found Peter only after a delay, and then only by navigating towards the beanpole that was Snape.  
  
"Go away, Pettigrew!" Snape was saying to a red-faced Peter, as Sirius slipped into the circle of onlookers gathering around them.  
  
"Too scared to fight, Slimeverus?" Peter yelled shrilly in reply. "Running away? Stand your ground, damn you, and prove if you're a man or a mouse!"  
  
"Man or _mouse_?" Snape raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Look who's talking, pipsqueak!" he quipped, turning to go.  
  
This mortal insult enraged Peter further. He let out a high-pitched shriek and flung himself towards his enemy.  
  
The element of surprise was very much on his side there. Snape, who had carelessly refused to believe Peter capable of more than foot-biting, was totally unprepared for the snarling ball of rage which hit him in mid-thigh. He clutched at the air impotently, and the two boys collapsed in a heap.  
  
An excited murmur ran through the crowd of onlookers: the real fun was about to start. Sirius quickly considered the possibility of taking bets...  
  
Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately) the event was over almost as soon as it had began. The crowd to one side parted somewhat hastily, revealing a figure with flashing glasses and piled-up black hair.  
  
"_Snape_!" Professor McGonagall yelled angrily. "What did I tell you? Unhand Pettigrew at once!"  
  
Summing up the situation, Sirius leapt forward quickly to pull Peter off. Snape was helped to his feet by two of his fellow Slytherins, one of whom, a girl, he quickly shook off.  
  
"But, Professor," the girl spoke in posh, nasal tones, "It was Pettigrew who..."  
  
"I suppose you want to tell me that it was Pettigrew who flung himself at Snape?" the Professor scoffed.  
  
The onlookers whispered amongst themselves. As they contained no further Slytherins, however, none chose to speak up in support of the story. Thus, Professor McGonagall was able to continue in full certainty.  
  
"Honestly, Lepervanche. I expected more from you. Twenty points from your House, and I will see _you_, Snape, in my office tomorrow at nine. And," she continued in ever more menacing tones, "if by some chance you decide to take _this_ out on Pettigrew your detention will grow much, much longer. _Understood_?"  
  
Looking at her defiantly, Snape emitted some sort of grunt. It was impossible to hear more, however, as at that moment the stadium erupted into loud booing. Everyone turned to look.  
  
Sirius was outraged to see that James was attempting to steady his broom while rubbing at his shoulder. The crowd's yells soon informed him that it was all a result of some sneaky foul perpetrated by Rumble, the Slytherin team captain.  
  
"Send him off!" he yelled, noticing with dismay that the score was already thirty to ten. Irritated at having missed so much, he grabbed a mutinous Peter by the collar and dragged him off to a safe spot among the Gryffindor first-years.   
  
  
  
Remus, sitting in the library over a weighty tome, heard the roar and smiled to himself. A reminder of the world outside, it encouraged him to go and join the others now that he'd found what he had been looking for. He'd been lost in thought, rather enjoying the moment: the mild sense of accomplishment, the silence, the motes of dust glittering in a ray of light. He liked the musty library, which held the legacies of so many civilizations. He liked feeling that, in so many ways, he _belonged_ there. His friends might scoff and accuse him of being a lone wolf when he went off on one of his solo journeys of discovery, but in fact he never felt quite so much like a human.  
  
The roar ended, and Remus shook his head, shaking off his reverie as if it were water on a wet dog. He knew that it had not been a victory roar - that would have gone on longer - but it had certainly been a preview of the grand roar to come. And James would never understand if he somehow missed _that_. Remus got to his feet, picking up the cloak.  
  
  
  
James, meanwhile, soared up and down on his Tornado.Weaving in and out of the trio of Slytherins assigned to the task of marking him (and generally making his life a misery), he laughed out loud. He was so happy to be happy again, after the previous day's trials, that not even the fly he had accidentally swallowed could dispell his positive mood. Below, far, far below, he could see cheering clouds, and even the small figure of Remus making its way across the field. And... yes... something golden glittering in the sunlight! Red-gold hair, in fact. Inspired, he did a rather impressive double loop.  
  
It was when he was upside down in his second loop that he finally saw it. The snitch was actually up above him! He had the weirdest feeling that it was envious of his fantastic maneuvers. Presently, it started to descend in a complicated corkscrew motion.  
  
There was no time to lose! James matched the path of the snitch, turning his broom so abruptly that the Slytherin Seeker sighed with jealousy. His guardians were left far behind: it was truly a perfect moment, as he slowly gained on his quarry, anticipating almost every one of its evasive maneuvers. The crowd grew completely still as he reached out towards the golden ball... and felt its beating wings still against his hand as he closed his fingers.  
  
  
  
The resulting roar was loud and absolutely incomprehensible. Thus, it was impossible to tell was screaming out their joy at the Gryffindor triumph and the Slytherins' shame using a few well-picked rude phrases, and who was rejoicing in a more genteel fashion. (Although it must be supposed that Sirius certainly belonged to the former group, and Minerva McGonagall - to the latter.) Sirius' shouts were all the more enthusiastic since he knew that out there, lost in the noise somewhere, were the despairing yells of the Slytherins. And, even more importantly, of most of those who had chosen to bet against him.  
  
Filled with the joy of sudden riches, Sirius decided to congratulate his partner. He turned towards Peter... but Peter was, alas, gone once again.  
  
This was starting to get rather annoying.  
  
Sirius growled. He looked around quickly, realizing that it would be very hard indeed to spot his short friend in the sea of jumping first-years. Thinking fast, he decided that Peter must have rushed forth to embrace James on the field and so share in the victory. It was not his custom, but all evidence suggested that custom had been chucked aside together with Peter's fussiness and shyness. Moreover, the alternative, that Peter was still a Snape-seeking weapon, did not bear thinking about. So, Sirius broke a school rule by leaping off the side of the stand with no regard for his limbs whatsoever, and made for the field.  
  
  
  
He was soon gratified to see that he'd been right. Pushing past several screaming girls, he saw that Peter was, in fact, congratulating the Gryffindor team. Indeed, James had only just managed to escape his lengthy embrace, and was turning in relief towards someone Sirius immediately classified as "a non-Gryffindor girl, red hair." Sirius also noticed that James' cheeks were pink, and his manner sheepish: had Peter said or done something inappropriate _again_?  
  
Dismissing the thought, Sirius turned his energies towards Peter's re-capture. He moved towards his friend, who was, at that moment, attempting to hug Livia.   
  
The embrace he achieved was exactly what one would expect from a short boy hugging a tall, well-built girl. Livia raised an eyebrow and looked directly down a t what was still visible of Peter's head. After a moment's thought, she decided he honour was at stake. Drawing back with a shocked expression, she slapped the offender so hard he spun around and sat down on the grass.  
  
Suppressing a snigger, Sirius covered the remaining distance and offered a hand. Peter took it, pulling himself up.  
  
"Huh! As if I could be bothered with _girls_!" He muttered with an angry look at Livia. "It should be _obvious_ that I'm more of a _fighter_ than a _lover_..."  
  
In reply, Sirius nodded sagely. He himself was currently involved in a fight, the fight to keep a straight face. Hearing a snort of laughter, he clapped his hand over his mouth just in case it had been his.  
  
As the laughter continued, it soon became apparent that it hadn't. The Gryffindors turned towards its source.  
  
  
  
It was Snape, walking down with the Slytherin team. And he was looking straight at Peter.  
  
Once again, Sirius was too slow in his reactions. Before he could so much as blink, Peter was out of the range of his arms and moving deliberately ever closer to the man who'd dared to laugh.  
  
"Do you want a piece of me, Snape?" he was asking. "Huh? Do you want a piece of me?"  
  
Looking around briefly, and seeing no professors, Snape decided that it was time to break Peter's winning streak.  
  
"I don't _want_ one," he said haughtily. "Although there will certainly be more than enough pieces of you to go round by the time I'm done with you. Fatty." He pulled out his wand.  
  
"You want a magic duel, then?" Peter sneered, stopping a few feet from Snape. "Afraid to face me like a _man_, are you?"  
  
Snape shrugged. "Well, if _that's_ how you wish to die..." he muttered, handing his wand to D'Uberville. Without a further word, he swung at Peter.  
  
Sirius decided that the situation was not looking good. Peter had certainly lost the element of surprise, and he was, after all, so much smaller... It was a pity that honour prevented him from aiding his short friend. He had to be satisfied with glaring at the other Slytherins.  
  
James and the recently-arrived Remus stepped up beside him. Sirius was surprised to note that their faces held wonder rather than worry. He turned back to the fight...  
  
It _was_ true that Peter was smaller, and less experienced in hand-to-hand combat, but both those factors were conspiring to make his fighting technique incomprehensible to Snape. For starters, Peter worked _only_ below the belt, paying special attention to knees and shins. He also seemed entirely impervious to pain, going so far as to laugh whenever he received some particularly powerful blow. Snape's only chance seemed to be to push him away and take advantage of his own wider reach. He grabbed at Peter's head, and soon the two were suck in a deadlock.  
  
The mixed crowd gathering around them was shouting out all kinds of encouragement.  
  
"Bite his kneecaps off, Peter!" James shouted.  
  
"No, no, headbutt him in the privates!" Sirius disagreed.  
  
Remus refrained from comment. He felt an urge to shout "Go for the throat!" but it seemed a bit inappropriate. Involved in this personal struggle, he was the first one to look up and see a familiar sight.  
  
"_SNAPE_!" Professor McGonagall was beside herself with rage. "Stop this at once! I've never... Immediate detention! Loss of Hogsmeade privileges!" she sputtered. "_Stop_ strangling Pettigrew at once!" she added, clearly unaware that Snape was trying to extricate himself as fast as possible, a grim expression on his face.  
  
"Professor, it really was Pettigrew who attacked," Rosier addressed her.  
  
"Well, you saw how Snape was insulting him!" Sirius countered, 'accidentally' elbowing Snape as he struggled to get Peter off him.  
  
"He _did_ call him fatty," was Remus's contribution, huffed out as he dragged a scowling Peter away by the scruff of his neck.  
  
"I find it very hard to believe that Peter would attack without extreme provocation," the Professor shook her head, regaining her composure.  
  
"But, Professor McGonagall, Pettigrew has been acting very odd lately..." Captain Rumble began.  
  
"Really? What makes you say that?" Remus asked innocently, running a hand through his ruffled hair.  
  
"_Nothing_," Rosier said emphatically, as several other Slytherins attempted to will Rumble into silence with glances and secret physical attacks. "Ralph is just distracted by the game, that's all..."  
  
McGonagall shrugged. Grabbing Snape by the arm, she turned towards James. "I must congratulate you, Potter. And the entire team, for a game well played. You'd better get back to the common room now," she announced, before disappearing back into the crowd.  
  
Understanding this to be an admonition against taking revenge, the Gryffindors started walking back.  
  
"I think there'll be a party now, but I do suggest a debriefing in our room first," James said to the other Marauders.  
  
Remus and Sirius nodded vigorously. Peter didn't. He was still muttering various threats under his breath.  
  
  
  
Fortunately, he had plenty of time to cool off before the scheduled meeting. While James was still changing with his team, and Sirius was off 'shopping' for party supplies, he spent some quality time sitting round the tower room with Remus.  
  
"I think I may have found the solution to your problem, Peter," Remus announced reassuringly.  
  
"Do you really think it's so much of a problem?" Peter asked.  
  
"Let me put it this way: _YES_. You're out of control, a threat to yourself and others."  
  
"Perhaps I could get better control," Peter suggested. "I mean, don't _you_ feel like kicking people's butts all the time?"  
  
"Not really..." Remus shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "It depends on the... time of month, of course, but it usually takes some pretty serious provocation. Physical provocation, I mean: people growling and posturing, or preparing to attack. Empty words don't usually do it," he confided. "Besides, I think we can all agree that what I have _is_ a problem."  
  
"I suppose so..." Peter agreed grudgingly. "I'd gladly exchange it for my usual problems, though."  
  
"No, you wouldn't." Remus was quite emphatic, "Not if you really thought it out. What problems are you referring to, precisely?"  
  
"Well... you know..." Peter was having a hard time putting it into words. "The fact that I'm such a despicable little wimp!"  
  
"Do you realize that, when you say stuff like that, you actually insult us?" Remus wondered aloud. "I think Sirius would feel seriously annoyed. I mean, we all like you, so what does that say about our taste?"  
  
"Fair enough. But don't you think I'm aware of being the odd one out half the time?" Peter countered with slight belligerence.  
  
"There's four of us, Peter. That's an _even_ number," Remus smiled. "Anyway, can you honestly say," he continued quickly, before Peter could take offense, "that the three of you never leave _me_ out of anything?"  
  
"No, but you're ill..."  
  
"And don't you remember all those times when nobody was even _speaking_ to Sirius anymore? Like the time he thought it'd be funny to eat all our homework?"  
  
"No, but Sirius..."  
  
"Honestly, Peter, I think everyone feels a bit like that at times. Except maybe for James, but James is... James," Remus concluded.  
  
  
  
At this point, James and Sirius reappeared, laden with sacks of food and drink.  
  
"Well, Remus, what did you find out?" James asked briskly, setting his load down in a corner.  
  
"It really _is_ pretty simple," Remus replied. "To break the curse, all we have to do is find and break the mirror they used to cast it."  
  
"Simple?" James frowned. "The Slytherins may be dumber than us, but I would assume they've hidden the mirror away."  
  
"They must be hiding it from the teachers, certainly," Remus allowed, "But they can't be keeping it in a sock drawer or anything. It has to be surrounded by candles at all times."  
  
"In that case," Sirius announced, helping himself to a cake, "I hope they've put it in a chest full of very, very dry, and very, very important, scrolls."  
  
"Those cakes are for the party," James slapped Sirius' arm.  
  
"Oh, please don't start, you two," Remus asked. "There's been enough violence done today."  
  
"_I_ disagree," Peter contributed. "I say we take the Slytherin common-room by storm, beat the knowledge of the hiding place out of Snape, and grab the mirror."  
  
"A brilliant plan," Sirius announced, "except that we don't know where their common room is."  
  
"_And_ we're expected at the party," James remembered.  
  
"_And_ I am starting to feel sorry for Snape," Remus sighed.  
  
"Hey, maybe he'll break the mirror himself, after what happened today!" James said optimistically.  
  
"Do you really think so?" Peter asked anxiously. "I think I'm going to go look for it _right now_!" He jumped off his bed.  
  
"I doubt he will, worse luck." Remus replied. "I think that at this point he'd quite like to see you get into trouble, and even McGonagall is bound to get suspicious if you keep attacking people."  
  
"You _could_ try to distract her with your charms..." Sirius suggested.  
  
Remus groaned. "How many times do I have to tell you, I am _not_..."  
  
"Don't get distracted, guys," James jumped in, impatiently. "Let's decide what to do. I suggest that we go downstairs right now, and look for the mirror tomorrow."  
  
"And hide it in _our_ room to keep it safe," Peter concluded.  
  
"You know, Peter," Sirius walked over and looked his friend right in the eye. "I think you should understand that we like you _much_ less like this. Sorry."  
  
"But surely you respect me more?"  
  
"No!" Sirius announced. "Today was deeply disturbing. I never thought I'd end up thinking of myself as the level-headed one."  
  
"If it helps," Remus told him, "I _still_ don't think of you as..."  
  
"Stay on target, guys, stay on target," James muttered. "I think we're all agreed that the curse must be broken..."  
  
Peter said nothing. Instead, he made a quick dash for the door.  
  
This time, Sirius was ready for once. Whipping out his wand, he shouted "Sopire!" and Peter fell to the floor, snoring.  
  
Remus, too, was quick off the mark. "Seeing as we can't break it right now, I think we should transfer the curse to someone else. I suggest myself: I've had some practice dealing with curses."  
  
"Yeah, like the curse of living with Sirius," James replied.  
  
"'Stay on target', James," Sirius grunted out while dragging Peter to his bed.  
  
"I think it's a good plan, Remus," James decided. "Let's go to the party first, though..."  
  
And so they did.  
  
  
_ How will the Speculum Curse affect Remus? Will the Marauders find the mirror? Find out in the next chapter... _   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
To the reviewers of SC Act I: thanks for letting me know what you find humorous... I find it very interesting that several people pointed out stuff I only put in to amuse myself as I write. And I do hope that people will find this installment equally amusing, even if it _is_ comparatively short on banter. Either way, reviews are very much appreciated...   
  
  
  
  
The Usual Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K.Rowling. I have no plans to make any money off this story. 


	3. Act III: Remus (Aroooo!)

  
Well, here it is, at last: The Speculum Curse, Act III: Remus. I hope it does not disappoint all those who have awaited it so impatiently. A couple of ffn people, who have made pretty good guesses as to what will happen, have been awarded cameos in this chapter. I hope neither one sues me for defamation of character.   
  
  
  
  
THE SPECULUM CURSE  
ACT III: REMUS   
  
  
_The story so far: Two days ago, the Slytherins put a serious personality-altering curse on James. Having done much research, our heroes know quite a bit about this curse: they know that, to break it, they'll have to get at a mirror concealed in the Slytherin quarters. They also know how to transfer it from person to person, and, as this chapter begins, it's Remus' turn to cope with its effects.   
  
But you knew all that, because you've read the other two pieces, right? If not, you should. Remus is in them, too! He's even in character._   
  
  
  
  
  
On Sunday morning all was peaceful in the room the Marauders shared. Tired out by their Quidditch victory celebrations, the boys slept late, even as the sun crept in through gaps in the curtains and moved slowly across the room.  
  
Peter woke up first, feeling rather empty. A moment's thought revealed that all the violent impulses he'd become so used to recently were now gone. Immediately, he decided that he was grateful to his friends for curing him forcibly. He shuddered at the memory of his own behaviour. Really, attacking Snape! Normally, the mere though of standing up to that dark disdainful gaze brought him out in a cold sweat.  
  
It had not been a bad fight, though, a small squeaky voice in the back of his head was saying. And the biting: the biting had been very effective. Perhaps Sirius could give him some tips for the future...  
  
His gaze drifted quite naturally over to Sirius' much-battered bed with its chewed-up bedposts. And fell on something rather incongruous, highlighted by a pool of sunlight: a pair of thin legs sticking out from below. A burglar?!? Peter gave a shrill scream and sat up.  
  
Everyone woke up at that: even the legs started backing out. Sirius, following Peter's pointing finger, leaned out of bed to give the limbs a bleary-eyed look. They looked familiar, in a friendly sort of way. A glance round the other beds helped him identify the owner: although, really, considering the Curse, it should have been obvious.  
  
"Hey, Remus," Sirius yawned, "What _are_you doing? Hunting dustbunnies?"  
  
"No, hunting for your broom," a muffled voice replied.  
  
"_What!?!_" Sirius exclaimed, leaping out of bed just in time to see a fully-dressed Remus emerge from under the four-poster, carelessly dragging his beloved souped-up patchwork of a broom. "Get your own broom!"  
  
"I want to go for a ride," Remus explained calmly, moving towards the window, "And my Swooper-Sweeper is no good: a kids' broom, really."  
  
"So? Leave the Century Falcon alone!" Sirius seized the other end of the broom possessively. "She's very sensitive; you'll ruin her! Take James' Tornado."  
  
"Now, wait a moment... " James began.  
  
"James' Tornado," Remus spoke slowly, as if to a backward child, "is in the broom shack. That's too far: I want to go flying _now_." Still holding the broom with one hand, he threw the curtains wide open with the other.  
  
"But... but... You can't!" Peter gasped. "You can't just... fly out the window! It's _so_ dangerous and _so_ against the rules! Even Sirius won't do it!"  
  
Remus fixed Peter with a very neutral expression that nevertheless managed to suggest that such petty rules just did not apply to someone as independent-minded and generally superior as himself.  
  
Sirius took advantage of the moment to pull the broom away. Moving out of the immediate range of Remus' arms, he smoothed down the bristles with attentive affection.  
  
Before Remus could react, James, having put on his glasses to help him think, spoke up. "If you _must_ go flying, Remus, take Sirius with you." he suggested. "Go pick up my broom; it's more fun that way, you can race."  
  
"Yeah," Sirius sent him a grateful look, "I'll show you the Secret Obstacle Course, just let me get dressed," he told Remus, attempting to pull his robes on with one hand while still cradling the Falcon.  
  
This last bribe proved too much for Remus. "Oh, do put the broom down," he sighed. Deciding to wait, he walked towards the wardrobe mirror and started to poke at his hair with his wand. Peter followed, and watched in utter fascination as the hair arranged itself into a careful devil-may-care windswept style.  
  
"Looking good," Remus winked at his reflection, pulling out a single curl and letting it fall over his right eyebrow.  
  
The mirror-Remus winked back.  
  
Sirius was less impressed. "Hurry up, Casanova," he growled, stepping onto his broom.  
  
Remus abandoned his image and leapt up behind his friend; and, with a whoosh, the two went out the open window at an almost vertical angle.  
  
James closed the window behind them and leaned against the pane.  
  
"So, Peter, here is the plan," he announced. "The two of us will go look for the Slytherin's lair while Sirius babysits Remus. With a little luck, _we_'ll be successful, and _they_ will remain in one piece.  
  
"They probably will," Peter replied. "Although I _am_ a bit worried about Remus' hair."  
  
  
  
Remus and Sirius, meanwhile, were fast approaching the shack. Sirius had decided early on that the best way to avoid detection was to fly low and fast; and he was proven right when they whizzed past Hagrid. The caretaker looked up from the Venus Mantrap he'd been lovingly tending and blinked.  
  
What was that odd hunchback doing at a runaway broom of a Sunday morning? And why would anyone fly only waist-high? Even Hagrid-waist-high?  
  
"'Ad too much cider las' night," he decided, rubbing at his throbbing temples.  
  
"Wow! What a broom!" Remus said, jumping off the broom before it had quite stopped. "How did you get it to go like that?"  
  
"Flex-charmed all the twigs to go more aerodynamic," Sirius explained proudly, circling him upside down. "It's illegal most places, you know: makes them more likely to fall out in bad weather. Or on sharp turns. Or at high altitudes. Worth it, though," he finished.  
  
"Oh, yes..." Remus concurred. "You _will_ let me ride it," he stated.  
  
"If you catch me first, I will." Sirius promised. "Now, hurry up and break in, I'm tired of hanging around like this."  
  
(One of the, um, few problems with his self-assembled broom was that, to control it at slow speeds, one had to fly it either upside down or backwards. This was not normally a problem, as 'Sirius' and 'slow speeds' did not mix.)  
  
Remus, raring to race, was in and out in a flash and a flick of his wand. "Challenge accepted," he shouted, kicking off on James' broom.  
  
Sirius was already flying away.  
  
Passing over the practice fields near the castle, he kept to an acceptable groundspeed, focusing the Falcon's energies on climbing to a respectable altitude. Once the cold became impossible to ignore, he levelled off and looked back over his shoulder. Remus was well behind, wobbling about slightly: for all his enthusiasm, he was NOT an expert flyer. Sirius slowed a little as he felt his own broom buck under him: "clever thing", he thought. "She knows I'm not paying attention." Turning in a wide arc, he managed to keep an eye on the approaching Remus as well as on the view behind.  
  
And what a view! The castle, a toy: the people, insects. Even the die-hard Quidditch players circling their field looked like far-off mosquitoes. Dismissing the desire to swat them, Sirius wished he could have such an intricate toy... or rather, he thought, correcting himself, he wished he could _have had_ such a toy back when he was just a child.  
  
Still turning, he looked beyond the castle, at the quilt of meadows and fields that unfolded towards Hogsmeade at the lake, at the Forbidden Forest. Freedom! How could James bear it, to be constrained by Quidditch rules whenever he flew at his best?   
  
Sirius _was_ free. Not even he himself knew where he would fly next.  
  
His self-satisfied musings were interrupted by some triumphant shouting: Remus was dangerously close. Without thinking about it too much, Sirius dove. And soon he was heading towards what James called the Oak Racecourse. He was pleased. That would be a good course to start Remus on: those trees were really quite sturdy, and few were alive at all.  
  
Remus was pretty excited to see that they were heading towards the Forbidden Forest. He loved that place: even on a human day, he found it fascinating beyond anything the wizard architects of Hogwarts could have constructed. On a wolf day, well, he was nearly sick with a need to delve into its mysteries. But yet he'd always stayed in the shack like a good little puppy, too busy fighting himself to concentrate on escape... "Oh, well, never mind that now," he thought, "self-reproach is a total waste of time."  
  
Besides, he could see individual leaves now, and Sirius was fast disappearing in their shadow. Throwing his head back for a quick howl, Remus followed his friend.  
  
Sirius heard the howl, and looked back briefly. What he saw rather impressed him: Remus, weaving in and out of the trees like a pro, was certainly getting the hang of this broomstick-slalom thing. It was almost troubling, as Sirius was completely opposed to getting caught. Leaving aside the loss of face this would involve, he had absolutely no intention of letting _anyone_ else touch his broom.  
  
Leaning forward, Sirius accelerated to a speed that was almost too fast for his reflexes to handle. Again and again, his heart would give a leap as he skirted round a tree at the last possible moment, narrowly missing its branches. This was what life was all about!  
  
Mild crashing and snapping sounds coming from behind him implied that Remus' was not quite as adept at swift turns. And yet, the noises went on: he was clearly managing to stay on the broom, somehow.  
  
Sirius was rather impressed. Still, he knew he would never forgive himself if James' broom suffered critical damage. With a sigh, he bore left and burst out of the forest.  
  
"End of race's at the ASTRONOMY TOWER!" he yelled out over his shoulder.  
  
Crashing out of the foliage right behind him, Remus whooped in agreement.  
  
They sped along, ascending again almost up to the clouds. Remus took great pains with his exact course, avoiding all unnecessary movements, but the outcome of the race was no longer in any doubt: he had lost too much time being swatted by trees. He felt mildly disappointed as he pulled up right above the tower, jumping down beside the winner.  
  
"Best view in the Castle," Sirius announced, throwing himself down beside the telescope. Under the guise of taking a good look around, he sent a brief inspecting look in his friend's direction.  
  
"The view from a broom is better," Remus countered, cheerfully wiping the blood out of his left eye with the edge of his cloak. There was a trickle of it running from his brow all the way down to his chin: it gave him a rather disreputable air. His clothes did not help, as they were torn in several places, a large bloody scratch visible through the hole at his shoulder. The leaves in his hair, on the other hand, did resemble a laurel crown.  
  
He looked like an underage Roman general just returned from a bloody but victorious battle.  
  
  
  
While Sirius was eyeing Remus' cuts and bruises with a professional detachment, James and Peter were casting a similarly inquisitive eye through a pile of roughly-drawn maps.  
  
"We should really combine all of these," James murmured. "Or at least make sure they're all using the same scale. It's hard to figure out what bits of the castle might contain a secret dorm, otherwise."  
  
"Oh look, there's another one in here!" Peter exclaimed, poking his wand into the hollow chair-leg he'd just finished unscrewing. "This one has the Hogwarts corridor."  
  
"Remember this one?" James waved a well-worn piece of parchment. "It shows the way to the Hall Of Obscene Male Statues."  
  
"Remus says it's just the Hall Of Badly Carved Statues With Large Swords," Peter commented.  
  
"Oh well, he would, wouldn't he? Anyway, we know the Slytherins don't live anywhere near there: Sirius mapped out that wing pretty thoroughly looking for the Female Statue equivalent."  
  
"You know, I've heard of a spell for combining maps," Peter said, suddenly. "Didn't Thurt the Goblin King use one before the battle of Spitting Plains, or something?"  
  
"Oh yeah!" James remembered. "I remember that lesson! Remus fell asleep and slid under his desk, and Sirius said that professor Binns should patent that story as a failproof spell for Combining Naps."  
  
"I can't remember it, though," said Peter with some worry. "And I know we used our H of M notes to feed that Fire Elemental."  
  
"It'll be in the library," James said.  
  
So that's where they went.  
  
  
  
Sirius, meanwhile, was wondering if there was any way he could get them to come up onto the roof and help. Being Remus' minder was a tiring job.  
  
"Oh, come on! Just one more," his charge was saying. He definitely had his heart set on another race.  
  
Sirius wasn't sure that this was such a good idea. He was no stranger to injury himself, but he didn't like seeing his friends covered in blood. Besides, he had this vague idea that Remus was concussed. He knew, from his own experience, that dizziness was one of the symptoms, and his friend seemed remarkably unsteady on his feet, reeling all over the place...  
  
Reeling towards that gap in the battlements! Sirius grabbed at Remus' cloak and pulled him down into a sitting position.  
  
"Why can't we just talk?" he asked, trying to get a look at his friend's pupils.  
  
"And waste such a glorious Sunday? We can talk when we're back in class," Remus smiled. "Anyway, don't worry, I do _not_ have a concussion. I'm just dizzy with excitement."  
  
"What, because of the curse?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Oh, who cares?" Remus threw up his arms, getting up again. "All that self-analyzing, self-control stuff... one might as well lock oneself in a shack all month long. It keeps you from truly living, and I want to suck the marrow out of life!"  
  
"Nice metaphor... But..."  
  
"Oh, no buts. Let's race again!"  
  
Faced with such firm perserverance, Sirius felt somewhat deflated. An idea floated into his mind... this had to be _exactly_ how the other Marauders had felt when discouraging him from trying to beat the Whomping Willow in arm-to-limb combat.  
  
He was, therefore, trying to think of some way to distract _himself_, hoping that it would work on Remus. He decided to do some serious soul-searching.  
  
"I wish we could get at some of Hagrid's cider," he sighed.  
  
"Me too. I can't believe I've never had any," Remus, who was normally afraid of all mood-altering substances (even tea and sugar biscuits), agreed.  
  
Sadly, at that moment, getting at the cider was clearly not possible: from their high perch, they could see both Hagrid and Fang puttering around outside the Groundskeeper's hut, trying to patch up a large burnt hole in the roof.  
  
"I know!" Sirius sat up. "You could teach me to howl! That was quite a good one you did earlier, by the way," he concluded flatteringly.  
  
"Thanks," Remus muttered. "Oh well, I suppose I had better do it - you'll never stop asking otherwise, will you?"  
  
"No way!"  
  
"Alright, listen carefully...."  
  
"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_"  
  
The sound sailed out over the castle and the meadows, sending sharp spikes of fear into the hearts of the first-years playing by the lake, and causing the practicing Quidditch players to falter on their brooms. Beside the burnt hut, Fang barked out a mournful reply.  
  
"W-wow," Sirius breathed. "Let's see, how's this: aaarrOOOOO!"  
  
"I hope you won't take it the wrong way, but that sounds like a humorous puppy looking for its mother."  
  
Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Alright then, aaaaaaaAROoooooooo!"  
  
"Better. A puppy pretending that it's NOT looking for its mother. But still... Look here," Remus said firmly, "You need to be using _all_ of your vocal range, and howling from your stomach and _then_ your chest, watch:"  
  
"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_"  
  
Circling above the Quidditch field, a player fell off. The first years ran inside, casting suspicious looks at the Forest. Fang whimpered, ears twitching nervously.  
  
"AAAARRRRROOOO!"  
  
Fang relaxed with a doggy shrug. The first years, less discriminating, ran even faster.  
  
"Yes, that's much better," Remus said kindly. "Keep practicing."  
  
Calling forth all his powers of concentration, Sirius tried it several times more. His howls sounded OK to him, although he really wished he could make them a bit more chilling. Was there a trick to it? He turned towards Remus to ask his advice.  
  
But Remus was gone. As was the Century Falcon.  
  
  
  
James and Peter were feeling rather pleased with themselves as they returned to their room, carrying a single map with possible Slytherin dorm locations marked out in purple ink.  
  
Their faces fell, however, when they saw that Sirius was sitting on one of the beds, gloomy and alone.  
  
"Is... is Remus alright?" Peter's chin wobbled. "Has he broken something?"  
  
"Not my broom, I hope," Sirius said. "He swiped it, and gave me the slip!"  
  
"Honestly, Sirius." James was rather amused. "You were outflown by a _novice_?"  
  
Sirius' coal-black gloom let through some sparks of anger. "I had a crappy broom," he explained politely. "Badly misshapen after years of use by a certain malformed Quidditch captain." He stood up and started moving slowly towards his friends.  
  
"As malformed as your nose is about to become?" James asked equally courteously, coming forward to meet him.  
  
"Guys! Guys! Cut it out!" Peter called out, grateful that such pre-fight posturing gave him a chance to step in. It was pretty silly, though, losing the element of surprise like that, he thought... Shaking himself, he continued, "We really should concentrate on finding Remus..."  
  
"Don't think I haven't been trying," said Sirius, turning towards him slightly. "I circled the castle, and checked all the likely places."  
  
"Well, we've only just come from the library, and we didn't see you _there_... Are you sure you didn't forget something obvious? The Owlery, the Skychart Room?"  
  
"The _library_, James?" Sirius snorted. "Haven't the last two days taught you anything? That's the _last_ place Moony'd visit, today. I did look in The Accelerated Explosion Room and in The Lounge Where The Teachers Sometimes Leave Liquor, though."  
  
"Oh, _your_ favourite rooms. I see," James replied, "that you were looking not for Remus, but for solace."  
  
"Who's Solace?" Peter asked.  
  
Sirius and James abandoned their argument to give him a look. Peter met their eyes innocently. Pretending to be stupid could really work wonders.  
  
At that very moment, there was a loud knock at the door.  
  
"Remus!" Peter exclaimed, spinning around.  
  
"No, solace," Livia grinned, leaning back on the door frame.  
  
James narrowed his eyes. "What _are_ you doing, barging into a boys' room?" he asked.  
  
"I'm hardly barging in: the door _was_ open," Livia explained, looking at them all with some amusement. "Anyway, all I wanted to do was ask if you boys are currently suffering from some kind of Bipolar Disorder curse."  
  
"It's none of your business, you know," Sirius answered curtly.  
  
"Oh, I know," she replied cheerfully, "It's just that I've recently seen James turn into a quivering jellyfish, Peter become quite pugnacious, and now _you_ are being Rude To A Girl. And as for Remus..." She shrugged.  
  
"As for Remus _what_?" James asked with completely unsuccessful mock-casualness.  
  
"Don't you know?" Livia's eyes widened. "Well, well, well. Tell you what," she said lightly, "you all explain the situation to me and I'll tell you what your mysterious friend is doing. And _where_."  
  
The three boys looked at each other. Peter opened his mouth as if to speak, but a furious look from Sirius made him close it so fast he bit his tongue.  
  
Livia, meanwhile, was waiting, toying with her wand.  
  
"No, we can't tell you," James decided. "No way."  
  
"I suspected as much," Livia said darkly, turning to go. James and Sirius exchanged a look, and shrugged in helplessness.  
  
Livia stopped as if struck by a sudden idea. "You know," she said. "I like your friend, and I wouldn't want him to come to any harm... so I'll tell you, anyway. I know I'll regret this," she continued, coming back in, "But all I want in return is for you, Sirius, to teach me how to do that wand-twiddling trick of yours."  
  
James sighed in relief. "Done," he said.  
  
"Hey!" Sirius called out. "Oh, fair enough. Where is he?"  
  
"None of _your_ business: you stay here and twiddle," Livia replied imperiously. "As for the two of you," she continued, "you can go and find your friend in the Herb Garden."  
  
"Oh, that's alright," Peter squeaked with relief. "He can't come to much harm in the Herb Garden."  
  
"Oh, but he is _not_ alone," Livia replied archly, making herself at home on a chest. "But don't worry, I doubt you'll interrupt anything," she rolled her eyes at James' shocked expression, "even if that tramp Talulah is there, I doubt she'd try anything in front of all the other girls."  
  
'All the girls'? Those were frightening words, indeed. Peter and James left at top speed.  
  
"If he gives you any trouble, tell him I've got some cider," Sirius shouted after them. Then he sat down by Livia, and showed her how to twirl a wand.  
  
"Not bad," he said of her efforts. "You know," he continued, struck by a sudden thought, "I bet a smart girl like you knows exactly where the Slytherin common-room is."  
  
"Oh, certainly," the smart girl replied. "I even know the password, and everything. Why do you think I'm dating that buffoon Avery? It was my the _only_ way of getting a peek at old Salazar's shrunken heads collection."  
  
"Would you..." Sirius began.  
  
"Oh, I'll tell you, sure enough," she interrupted. "In return for your broom."  
  
"My _broom_? You are _insane_!"  
  
  
  
While Sirius was discovering that neither insults, compliments, threats, nor heart-felt pleas would sway Livia, James and Peter finally reached the herb garden.  
  
There, they did indeed find a group of girls. But no Remus.  
  
"Good afternoon," James said stiffly. Some of the girls were fifth formers, and they gave him the creeps. "You haven't, by some chance, seen our friend Remus, have you?"  
  
"He's giving Molly a ride on his broom," a Japanese-looking girl explained politely.  
  
"Lucky Molly, eh, Yoshiko?" her plump friend giggled. Several others joined in.  
  
"Hello there, James," a rather tall girl with waist-long black hair walked out from among the gigglers. "You haven't come to lure him away, have you?"  
  
Her dark eyes met his. How could she stare like that without blinking? he wondered, colouring.  
  
"I'm afraid so, Talulah," he replied, screwing up his courage.  
  
"Good luck," she smirked, turning away slightly so that her profile was displayed to advantage. Raising her chin, she looked out over the treetops, as if waiting.  
  
James and Peter waited, too.  
  
"I think Livia's right about that Talulah Gosh," James said in a low voice, "She _does_ sort of remind me of Snape."  
  
"_I_ think she's very... um... cute," Peter replied. "Snape isn't."  
  
"Well, apart from that," James said crossly. "_And_ apart from her being in Ravenclaw..."  
  
This fascinating discussion was brought to a sudden end as a dark shape appeared over the trees. It drew closer, then closer yet; and, before anyone could even exclaim or point, the broomstick was executing a perfect landing on the central lawn.  
  
Remus leapt off lightly. Unaware of how torn his robes had been, his friends could not know that he had fixed them up: it was, however, pretty obvious to them that he had transfigured his cloak into a nifty black leather number with "Born to Ride" written on the back in silver letters.  
  
_Silver-coloured_ letters, at least.  
  
As James and Peter stared, Remus tossed the cloak over his shoulder and offered a hand to the blonde girl still sitting on the broom. Accepting with a smile, she jumped off beside him.  
  
"Thanks. That was just _wonderful_," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.  
  
Peter stared, his mouth hanging open. "_Nice_ cloak, Remus," he said.  
  
"Ah, Peter! James!" Remus let go of Molly and turned towards his friends with a dazzling, toothy grin. Peter was vaguely disturbed: Remus' normal smile was more of a Mona Lisa affair, and he could see why. This version was oddly frightening.  
  
"Hey there, Remus," James said, "Do you think you could come back to the tower with us? We have some, uh, important business to attend to."  
  
Remus nodded cheerfully, and picked up the broom.  
  
"Oh, _no_!" Talulah exclaimed. "You can't go! Not when it's _my_ turn!"  
  
"What, _again_?" Yoshiko asked suspiciously.  
  
"Er," Remus said, looking from Talulah to Yoshiko to James.  
  
Molly walked over to Peter's side. "I don't think your friend is very well," she said quietly. "Perhaps it _would_ be best if you could persuade him to go..."  
  
Peter agreed. "We have, er, cider?" he said, hopefully."  
  
"Ah yes!" Remus exclaimed, turning towards the girls with an apologetic smile. "Well, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. See you..." There, he picked up his broom and walked up to his friends.  
  
"Bye, Remus! Bye!" the assorted girls called out.  
  
He waved back for a while, but soon turned to James with a sigh.  
  
"So many girls, only one Remus," he said.  
  
  
  
They walked back to the tower, Remus strutting on ahead, humming happily to himself. He drew several puzzled looks, and some upperclassmen were heard to wonder why they had never seen this student before. His friends were concerned.  
  
"I am not sure that letting him drink cider is a good idea," James whispered.  
  
"Maybe Sirius was just bluffing?" Peter suggested.  
  
But Sirius had not been bluffing. When they entered the room, he was struggling to open a small barrel. The late-summer scent of apples in the air was already pretty intoxicating.  
  
"Well done, Sirius!" Remus smiled, pulling out several chipped mugs. "How did you get it?"  
  
"I dug up Hagrid's stash," Sirius explained. "I went there looking for you, and, well... just thought I'd take advantage of the situation."  
  
"Sirius!" James poked his friend in the ribs sharply. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he hissed, as Remus crouched down, filling the mugs.  
  
"Don't worry, I have a plan," Sirius replied in an undertone. "Have a mug, Prongs, my friend!" he exclaimed loudly. "You too, Peter. Let's sit down and enjoy."  
  
James sat down, full of misgivings. He had a feeling that Sirius' plan involved a lot of drinking and a high probability of failure.  
  
"Hey, this is good!" Remus exclaimed, tasting his share. "Let's take it downstairs and have a party!"  
  
"I have a better idea, Remus," Sirius replied, making himself comfortable against the barrel. "Since this is your first time drinking, and Peter's too, probably, you two should really learn to play some drinking games before you attempt to imbibe in public."  
  
"It is _not_ my first time!" Peter exclaimed indignantly. "I had some sherry at Christmas!"  
  
"Wonderful," Sirius smiled. "You can help me demonstrate the first game. It's called 'I never.'"  
  
"Go on," Remus had obviously accepted Sirius as the local authority on drinking etiquette.  
  
"Well, it goes like this. One of us, me for instance, will say something like 'I have never drunk cider before.' You should really make it something you haven't done, but of course, when it's my turn," here he bowed his head modestly, "that will be rather difficult. Then, whoever _has_ done it has to take a long, satisfying draught of cider. Like Peter, in this case," he waved an encouraging hand towards Peter, who frowned in concentration and took a small tentative sip. "Also James, and myself. Understood?" he looked around quizzically.  
  
"Yes," James replied, wiping cider foam off his chin.  
  
"I think so," Remus nodded.  
  
"Um... yeah, me too," Peter finished, shuddering as the drink kicked in.  
  
"Good. We'll go clockwise, and I'll start," Sirius announced. "Here goes: 'I have never been to the Slytherin common-room.'"  
  
Remus gazed at his cup longingly and ran an impatient hand through his hair.  
  
Peter, meanwhile, drank.  
  
"Ooh, I'm very impressed, Peter." Sirius smiled sweetly. "Why did you go there? To apologize to Snape?"  
  
"What?" Peter was confused.  
  
"You weren't supposed to drink to that," James explained patiently. "You only drink if you _have_ done it.  
  
"But I _have_ never done it," Peter was flustered.  
  
"No, no, no," Sirius shook a despairing head. "Just remember this: the idea is to punish... er... reward the _more_ experienced people by making them drink. _You_ haven't experienced... well, almost anything, really, but, most relevantly, a tour of the Slytherin's quarters. So, you don't drink."  
  
"But Remus hasn't, either, and he's drinking."  
  
And so he was. Noticing their eyes upon him, he put down his mug. "Oh, this is such a waste of time. He'll never get it without practice. Let's just tell him when to drink," he suggested.  
  
Peter was shocked and upset.  
  
"Wow, I've never seen Remus be so inconsiderate of poor Peter," James said.  
  
"You have _now_, so drink up," Remus announced triumphantly. "OK, my turn: I have never beaten Sirius in a broomstick race," he declared. Grinning dangerously, he drank again.  
  
"Show-offs," Sirius growled, his eyes moving from Remus to James, who was also chugging away. "OK, I have a good one: I have never had a crush on a professor."  
  
Nobody drank. Nobody spoke, either. After a while, it became clear that Remus was the general focus of attention.  
  
"I do _not_ have a crush on Min... Professor McGonagall!" he stated firmly, meeting their eyes. "But... oh, well, I'll drink anyway."  
  
Sirius leaned towards James under the pretext of re-filling his mug. "See? All according to plan. He'll be drunk in no time," he whispered.  
  
"Pardon?" Remus turned towards them brightly, before James had even had time to adopt a skeptical look.  
  
"I was just saying that I've never turned into an animal," Sirius shrugged, with a wink at James.  
  
"Soon, though, we all will," James smiled at the rapidly drinking Remus. "Once this mess is cleared up, and we can restart the Animagi project..."  
  
"Why isn't Sirius drinking?" Peter asked suddenly.  
  
"Because I haven't ever turned into an animal," Sirius rolled his eyes. "And you aren't supposed to drink unless..."  
  
"You always talk about being a _party animal_," Peter pointed out, interrupting. "Besides, I'm sure it's my turn."  
  
"Fine," Sirius took a quick sip. "Go on, then."  
  
Peter was thinking. "I have never kissed a girl," he said quickly. He did not drink.  
  
Everyone else did.  
  
"Remus, you sly old dog! James!" Sirius raised his eyebrows. "I want names, dates, and places."  
  
"Let's just say it's been an interesting afternoon," was all Remus would say.  
  
James, meanwhile, refused to say anything, claiming that a girl's honour was at stake.  
  
"In that case," Sirius told him, "I am afraid I do not believe you."  
  
"Well... I don't believe _you_!" James shot back.  
  
"But I've been giving you names, dates, and places for years!" Sirius looked affronted.  
  
"Quite true," Remus laughed. "I still remember that story you told us back in our second year, about the Squarrely sisters."  
  
"Yeah, the two sixteen-year-old _prefects_," James added.  
  
"You believed me for a few days, though, didn't you?" Sirius asked. "I remember your shocked faces quite well."  
  
"It wasn't true, then?" Peter asked breathlessly.  
  
"He was lying back then, just as he's lying now, the lying hound," James explained.  
  
"I _may_ have been lying back then, but now... Now I have not only names, but witnesses!" Sirius announced.  
  
"What, those women of easy virtue you hang out with?" James scoffed.  
  
Sirius sat up, reaching for his wand. "Speaking of women I hang out with, you, James, are..."  
  
"Oh, calm down, Sirius!" Remus had clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's valuable drinking time you two are wasting!"  
  
"You're right, Remus," Sirius sank back. "And, fine, James, I will believe you. I can certainly see how a girl's honour might suffer if it is disclosed she's been dallying with _you_..."  
  
He slipped back further as James flung himself at him, arms outstretched. Cider flew everywhere as the usual battle began. James had the advantage in terms of size and technique, but Sirius seemed to feel no pain.  
  
"What a waste," Remus said, shaking his head at the spilled liquid.  
  
Peter did not reply. He was asleep, knocked out by the half-mug he'd consumed.  
  
  
  
The fight was over as abruptly as it had began. James was just sitting on Sirius' back and pulling on his arm, when they both happened to look over at the cider keg.  
  
Which was gone.  
  
As was Remus.  
  
"You _idiot_," they both said simultaneously, to each other.  
  
They made peace quite quickly, though. It was a necessity. Between the two of them, they managed to rouse Peter, and all three descended the stairs rather unsteadily and began their search.  
  
They found their trail almost immediately.  
  
"Hello, guys," Livia looked up from a chair by the fireplace. "Lost him again, have you?"  
  
"Where did he go?" James asked abruptly.  
  
Livia raised her eyebrows. "What's the magic word?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, you want to hear a magic word, do you?" Sirius asked, drawing his wand.  
  
She laughed in reply. "He went outside, of course, where else? But," she continued, I am so terrified by this _enormous_ wand that I'll tell you more. I know for a fact that she-who-must-not-be-named was hovering in desperation right outside our door; I'd assume he met her, and she dragged him off to her lair.  
  
"She-who?" Peter frowned.  
  
"You mean Talulah, don't you?" Sirius asked. "Wait a moment," he frowned at her cheerful nod, "Why are you so happy? Isn't she your sworn enemy? Surely you can't approve of her capturing Remus?"  
  
"So many questions," Livia sighed, turning back to the stack of nautical charts she'd been studying. "I have one for you: If you don't trust me, why don't you run along and ask someone else? Although, really, _I_ would suggest that you go upstairs. And sleep it off. Your friend will come back in his own time."  
  
Her self-satisfied air seemed to imply that she knew far more about the whole situation, but this was normal for a girl who supplemented her allowance by selling information. At any rate, she would add nothing to her suggestions. Giving up in disgust, the Marauders stepped out through the portrait-hole.  
  
They immediately ran into two Gryffindor second-years, who were loitering under the portrait, all shifty-eyed innocence.  
  
"Have you forgotten the password, then?" James asked tolerantly.  
  
"Nah... we're, um, waiting for a friend..." one of them stuttered out, looking at the edge of his robes.  
  
"Have you seen _our_ friend Remus?" Peter asked, smiling to put them at their ease. "Brown hair, tired-looking, you know?"  
  
There was a moment of silence. "We weren't here back then," the braver boy volunteered at last.  
  
"Back when?" Sirius asked suspiciously. "What are you trying to hide? A-ha! I've got it!" he announced, grinning broadly. "I know exactly why you dirty little piglets are here, so don't try any tricks with me, or I'll call a prefect. And _do_ tell us all you know about Remus."  
  
This threat worked wonders: and, after a few minutes cross-examination, they knew that Remus had not looked tired, that he'd been wearing a "real cool cloak" and carrying some apple juice (but he wouldn't let them have any) and that he'd been met by "the Ravenclaw girl with the hair." Further investigation revealed that she'd invited him to her 'boo-duar' and that she'd been very admiring of his tattoo.  
  
"What tattoo?" James asked, suspecting the worst.  
  
"The weird one on his arm," the second-year trembled.  
  
"The mark of the Curse," Sirius breathed. "Well," he said to his friends, "I guess we should check out the Ravenclaw dorm. And as for you two," he turned towards the smaller boys, "What you're waiting for will never happen, so run along."  
  
They walked off towards the library section.  
  
"What will never happen?" Peter asked as soon as they were out of earshot. "You sounded a bit like Professor Trelawny, there."  
  
"Don't you remember that story I told all the other first years? Sirius asked him, smirking, "About the fat lady changing clothes at the stroke of midnight?"  
  
"Oh yeah," James recalled. "I do remember that you've always been a pervert."  
  
  
  
This was the last lighthearted moment they were to share for some time. Even if they now had a good idea of where Remus was, reaching him proved impossible: for the Ravenclaw's door was guarded by stone ravens, and they stood no chance of breaking in without alerting the ferocious Professor Toedlicher-Schnapps. Returning to their bedroom at eleven, they decided to wait. They could not risk being seen by the teachers at this hour, and the invisibility cloak had disappeared with Remus.  
  
The atmosphere as they settled down was very tense. Sirius came up with several plans, but all were shot down by James, which did nothing to help. Neither did the headaches all three were developing. It was a miserable time, and many minutes ticked away in sullen silence.  
  
  
  
At last, Sirius sat up sharply. He could hear noises down in the common-room. Not footsteps, though: singing? Exchanging quick looks, the Marauders rose and hurried down the stairs.  
  
The noises quickly resolved themselves into a drunken song about goblins. They ran faster. Reaching their destination, they were greeted by an unusual sight.  
  
Livia had been right. Remus _had_ appeared in his own time, if not exactly under his own steam. His legs seemed to be giving him some trouble, and even with the help of two Gryffindor girls he was still reeling around erratically.  
  
"There you are, Remus!" Peter rushed towards his friend. "We've been ever so worried!"  
  
"We'll take over from here," Sirius said to the girls. "We're been looking for him."  
  
"Your search was not exactly a _dogged_ one, now was it?" the frizzy-haired girl commented, offering Remus' arm to the other Marauders. "He was stumbling around his own dorm when we found him."  
  
"A likely story. Isn't that lipstick on his collar yours?" James peered at the girls suspiciously.  
  
"Does that _look_ like my colour?" the second girl was quite indignant. "Come on, Moon, let's get out of here."  
  
"Good idea. They're all barking mad, if you ask me," Moon replied.  
  
The girls swooshed off in their dressing-gowns, and the boys began the Sisyphian task of getting Remus up the stairs. He was, by that point, quiet and unconscious, a surprisingly heavy dead weight with a marked tendency to slip out of their hands.  
  
"At least the cloak's still here," James sighed, searching through his friend's pockets as they arranged him on his own bed. "Well, what do we do now?"  
  
"We tie him to me, of course," Sirius replied. "Come on, it does make sense," he continued when faced with James' skeptical gaze. "We've been making the mistake of putting the curse on naturally calm people, so of course they've been freaking out. If we put it on me, the result is bound to be a boring, charmless individual."  
  
Well, it _did_ make sense. Even if James did not exactly agree that Sirius' natural state was charming and interesting.  
  
So, that's what they did, before sinking into disappointed dreams. They had made little progress towards finding the Slytherin's lair.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius woke up a little bit later. He could feel Remus stirring beside him.  
  
"You OK?" he asked.  
  
"Um, my head hurts quite a bit," Remus replied with forced lightness.  
  
"Hangover," Sirius said knowledgeably. "Come on, we'll get you something so I can sleep."  
  
Together, they got Remus' painkillers out and opened the bottle. As they were attached to each other, and had only two free hands between them, this took quite a bit of teamwork. They managed it without waking the others, however, and Remus was finally able to rest easy as the pills began their work.  
  
"What a day..." he whispered. "At least _one_ good thing has come out of it, though..."  
  
"Your learning to fly?"  
  
"And your learning to howl..." from the sound of his voice it was clear that Remus was smiling. "That too, of course, but what I meant, really, is that I _have_ found out where the Slytherin common-room is."  
  
"What?" Sirius sat up.  
  
"Shhh... Let them sleep. I've got the map right here."  
  
There was a crinkling sound. Sirius relaxed and felt for the parchment. "Where did you get this?"  
  
"From Livia."  
  
"From... How? You didn't promise her my broom, did you?" Sirius' voice grew suspicious.  
  
"No... It was a fair swap... It's all a bit fuzzy now; to be quite honest it was quite fuzzy then, too," Remus explained dryly. "She said that she'd give it to me if I told her how to get into Talulah's room, and that Talulah was looking for me, anyway..."  
  
"Wow!" Sirius' awe was genuine. "You're one of those sex spies, like Mata Hari."  
  
Remus groaned. "Curse that curse! I feel just awful now, wondering what Livia is planning to do with the information I provided."  
  
"You really like that Talulah, then?"  
  
"I hardly know her... Stop snickering, it's true. I know Livia's pretty ruthless, though, and she said something about Hair Dissolving Potion and shampoo..."  
  
They lay there for a while, trying to doze off.  
  
"Sirius," Remus whispered, suddenly. "You've been drunk before, haven't you?"  
  
"Yes. Don't worry, the hangover clears up in a day or so."  
  
"Oh, never mind that. I'm more interested in the memories."  
  
"The memories?"  
  
"Does it always feel like you're remembering scenes fuzzily, through a mist, and not in the right order?"  
  
"Yes. You forget things, too, which _can_ be a blessing... Or so I've heard people say, I mean, I haven't really been drunk all that much, to be honest."  
  
Remus sighed. "I see. I was just thinking that it feels, well, familiar. A bit like the day after the full moon."  
  
"Really? In that case, I'll get drunk at the next possible opportunity. I want to know all there is to know about being a werewolf."  
  
"Thanks, Sirius."  
  
"Don't mention it. One thing, though: the Curse. What did _that_ feel like?"  
  
"Can't you feel it on yourself, yet?"  
  
"Well, I _am_ being unusually introspective... But I don't feel all that changed, not essentially."  
  
"I didn't, either."  
  
"Come on! Have you, in your drunken stupor, forgotten that I was _there_? If you were acting like yourself, I'll eat Peter's rat!"  
  
"No, really," Remus explained earnestly. "I've always wanted to do all that stuff, I've just been too busy worrying about the consequences. Too busy with other worries, too: honestly, I'm such a sad case, normally. Then, this morning, I had this clear idea that I had just one day to have as much fun as possible. It made perfect logical sense."  
  
"Yeah," Sirius agreed, "Put like that, it does. You were very good at having fun, too, I'd say. And I'm an expert, as you know."  
  
"Well, I don't think the drinking was _entirely_ worth it. But maybe I'm just saying that now because it feels like a dozen house-elves are scrubbing out my head from the inside."  
  
"Does it? I bet they got the wrong address: _I_'m the one who's supposed to have a dirty mind, after all. Wasn't it fun _while_ you were drunk, at least?"  
  
"Not sure. I was feeling... very strange, by then. Frantic. Trying to keep the party in my head going, by any means necessary. But perhaps," Remus voice grew cautious, "you know what I mean?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose I do," Sirius was serious for once. "Boredom is so... empty. Makes one... think about things."  
  
They grew silent, then. Thinking about things.  
  
Sirius' voice broke the spell. "So, all those girls. Did you get any?" It was thus clear what things _he_'d been thinking about.  
  
"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew what you meant," was Remus' cool reply.  
  
"Oh, come on. Share your wisdom."  
  
"I'm asleep. Go away, or I'll bite you."  
  
  
  
  
_Will Sirius go away, or will Remus have to bite him? And what will the following morning bring? How will Sirius act? Will the Slytherin break-in go smoothly? I promise to answer all these questions, and more, in a week or two. _   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Like I said, I hope you're not disappointed and/or outraged. For the record, I would like to state that getting so drunk that you feel house-elves moving about in your head is definitely _not_ worth it. Especially if you're a young teenager.  
  
I think this is the longest piece I've finished so far (which partly explains why it's taken so long.) Now, I have this theory that the shorter a piece, the more reviews it gets, so I am guessing this one will get very few. I would, however, love to be proven wrong. How did all you lovely people like the cursed Remus? 


	4. Act IV: Sirius

Phew... Finished at last, and I'm as happy as a clam. This has turned out to be a _very_ surreal chapter, and I do hope that people other than myself can understand all the silly, pointless dialogue.  
  
Either way, I'm _ever_ so happy to be done. I've even re-written the earlier Acts to make them more readable: this would be a good time to re-read (and, possibly, review) them... Writing this series has been _quite_ an experience. You can expect great things from me in the future, but I think they'll all be much shorter.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE SPECULUM CURSE  
ACT IV: SIRIUS   
  
  
_The story so far: As this episode opens, the Marauders awaken to find Sirius altered by a Personality-Changing curse. This is, however, not as surprising as it may sound, as every single other Marauder has already suffered from this same curse. Remus has just got rid of his, which explains, among other things, his hangover, and all those girls. At any rate, today's objective is to get into the Slytherin dorm and break a special mirror, thereby dispelling the curse and letting us all breathe easier.   
  
The above (and the below) will make much, much more sense if you read the other bits. _   
  
  
  
  
  
Deciding that a small motion should be safe, Remus opened one eye. He could still remember the agony of the small hours, when even movements of an inch or so seemed to disturb the elves which had moved into his cider-sodden head.  
  
Admittedly, it had been a while since he'd felt any _real_ pain, but the strange humming noise which now filled his ears and brain was not a good omen.  
  
Still, he opened the one eye. What his one open eye saw was the ceiling. And that interesting blot left over from Sirius' love potion experiments, the one that looked like a fat child with a bow and arrow. He looked at it for a while.  
  
It was far from a fascinating sight, so, just to challenge himself, he opened the other eye. Well, a flat picture looked pretty much the same in three dimensions as in two. His head, meanwhile, still felt just fine, if one ignored the humming. He decided to take a chance and rise up on his elbows.  
  
This change in viewing angle brought more of the room into focus.  
  
The room contained no-one but Sirius.  
  
Who was sitting on the window seat in an odd, cross-legged position, his eyes tightly shut.  
  
"Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he was chanting.  
  
Well, _that_ explained the humming inside Remus' head.  
  
It also suggested quite a bit about what kind of day it was going to be.  
  
Remus decided it wouldn't be _too_ bad. "Good morning, oh wise one," he coughed politely. "I hope all's well on the astral planes. Where's everyone else?"  
  
Sirius opened both eyes. His expression was oddly mild.  
  
"I think that you will find that, deep within, you already know."  
  
Well, he _was_ right. So, after giving him a funny look, Remus went off to meet his friends in the showers.  
  
  
  
He had to make his own shower a quick one: they were already late for breakfast. All three rushed back to the bedroom to get fully dressed.  
  
"Aren't _you_ showering, Sirius?" Peter asked, easing his robes over his stomach.  
  
"No. I have decided not to wash, so as to mortify my flesh," Sirius replied solemnly.  
  
"Your flesh is our own business," James agreed, "but why mortify all our noses?"  
  
"Oh, never mind that," Remus sighed. "Just make sure he gets dressed: he can't go down to breakfast in that loincloth."  
  
"Clothes are but a vanity, a cover for what is within," Sirius announced.  
  
"Which, in your case, conveniently happens to be a torso of which you are quite proud," James commented, "although _I_ must say that I've seen better chests on a plucked chicken."  
  
"Mmm, chicken," Peter licked his lips. "Say, could we hurry it up please? I'm quite hungry."  
  
"I'm not," Remus winced, still feeling a little bit ill. "But I suppose we'd better go. As for Sirius' under-clothed state," he continued, "I'll bet you a dozen frogs that our friend here is a now pacifist, and as such will be unable to resist a forcible dressing."  
  
Sirius, while still looking utterly serene, did heed this threat. He pulled on a robe without a word and walked out of the door, head held high, as if leading a dozen disciples.  
  
The three Marauders followed.  
  
"Weird," Peter whisper. "If I didn't know about the curse, I'd think he was faking it."  
  
"It does all seem rather calculated to annoy," James agreed as they walked through the common-room. "We'll have to test him.What do _you_ think, Remus?"  
  
But Remus was looking rather pale, all of a sudden. He was also looking rapidly over both his shoulders, as if making sure no-one was standing there.  
  
"Do I, er, know those girls?" he whispered.  
  
James followed his gaze. A group of assorted Gryffindor females was waving cheerfully at Remus from by the girls' dorm entrance.  
  
"Most definitely yes."  
  
Another girl walked past, hair still damp. "Oh, hi, Remus," she said. "How are you this morning? Not looking exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, are you?"  
  
"Hi, Moon," Remus replied with a sickly smile. "James," he whispered out of the corner of this mouth, "Help. Stop her before she feels my nose!."  
  
In reply, James only laughed and pushed him off to the Hall.  
  
  
  
At breakfast Remus' situation was much worse. His new-found popularity was _not_ restricted to Gryffindor. All around the room, several girls were waving and sending him kisses. And the round-eyed, impressed gaze with which Peter regarded all this was not making Remus feel any better.  
  
"Stop grinning like an idiot," James advised. "You're leading them on: try looking sullen."  
  
Remus immediately adopted a tortured, aloof expression.  
  
Sirius looked up from the meager meal he'd been mortifying his flesh with. "I think that you will find," he announced, "that many people will be all the more eager to chase after what they can't have."  
  
"Oh, shut up and eat your dry toast," James snapped. Making wise pronouncements was _his_ job, and he didn't appreciate Sirius cutting in.  
  
"James, my friend, anger is a foe of good digestion," Sirius shook his head sadly.  
  
"Just as my fist a foe of your nose," James countered.  
  
"Go ahead, brother," Sirius replied, "Strike me, and watch me turn the other cheek. I _would_ turn the other nose, but I have just the one."  
  
Truer and wiser words have never been spoken, but few were paying attention. James was too annoyed, Remus too embarrassed, and Peter still too impressed.  
  
"Wow," he said, looking up towards a girl. "Remus, that one's coming over here! She's a Ravenclaw! She's kinda cute!"  
  
Remus looked over, expecting the worst. For once, he was wrong. It was not Talulah.  
  
"Good morning, Zin," he addressed Talulah's roommate.  
  
"Hello, boys" she said, fluttering her eyelashes around the table on principle.  
  
Up close, she wasn't all _that_ cute: her hair, dyed black, clashed violently with her freckly skin and purple mascara.  
  
"Hello, Reemy," she fixed Remus with a low-lidded gaze, "I bear a message. Tal is chez Madame Pomfrey's, and she would really, really like to see you, darling, so _do_ visit during lunch."  
  
"Urk," Remus swallowed. "Is she OK?"  
  
Zinfandel's search for the perfect way to describe her friend's malaise was interrupted by an amused voice from further down the table.  
  
"In essentials, I'd imagine so, although I'd imagine she's just had an, um, _hair-raising_ experience."  
  
"Livia!" Zinfandel exclaimed, the colour in her cheeks contrasting unfortunately with her plum lipstick. "It _was_ your doing, then? You'll get detention for _this_!"  
  
"Worth it," Livia drawled, "Although I don't understand why the two of you are, er, _wigging out_ so badly. Talulah should be thanking me for getting rid of all her split ends, this will give her a chance to start afresh."  
  
"Hah!" was all Zin could say, before storming back to her own table.  
  
"Poor girl," Livia sighed, "She's short on wit, I hear she's a bad kisser, and even in terms of looks she's just a bad imitation of Lupin's girlfriend."  
  
Remus was staring straight ahead as if he'd just lost his Hogsmeade privileges. "Talulah's _not_ my girlfriend," he muttered.  
  
"You wouldn't dump her just because she's lost some of her looks, would you?" Livia raised an eyebrow. "Not a nice, considerate boy like you..."  
  
Remus slumped forward. If Talulah really thought they were dating, then he certainly couldn't do _that_. Being a good person has some definite down-sides.  
  
"Cheer up, Remus," James said. "We'll think of something. And, in the meantime, maybe she'll at least keep the other girls away."  
  
"Girls," Sirius mused, "Girls are sin incarnate."  
  
Remus had to agree that they were, at the very least, trouble.  
  
  
  
  
What with all the confusion at and before breakfast, the boys had no time to plan the Great Slytherin Break-In. Thus, they were forced to do some serious plotting during Defence Against The Dark Arts. While Professor Asquith paced, explaining the habits of various types of vampires, they engaged in intense whispering every time his back was turned.  
  
"What would the safest time be?" was the question on everyone's lips.  
  
Everyone's, that is, but Sirius'. He said that time was relative anyway, but that if only they would chill out and let their minds wonder the answer would soon float up from their inner depths.  
  
"Black!" Professor Asquith spun around on his heel, over-hearing his mutterings. "Do you have something to add, boy? Something on the subject of vampires, I hope."  
  
"Yes, actually," Sirius replied, standing up from his desk, his head held high. "I _did_ want to ask everyone to take a moment to think about whether all this talk of killing vampires is _right_."  
  
There was a shocked silence. Even the Professor was taken aback, his moustache twitching.  
  
"After all," Sirius continued with a small bow, "is not _all_ life sacred?"  
  
"Vampires," Professor Asquith found his voice, "are _dead_. Bloodsucking fiends. But perhaps," his voice softened, "it is _werewolves_ you were thinking about, what-what?" His deep-sunk eyes took in all the Marauders at a glance. "Werewolves are a completely different case. Often more human than the average schoolboy, Black, your beastly self included. Quite unsporting, the way most people treat werewolves."  
  
Remus put a casual hand on Sirius' shoulder and pulled him down before the conjunction of Marauders and werewolves made any deeper impression in their classmates' minds.  
  
"Hey, Sirius," James hissed, "Why don't you just take a vow of silence?"  
  
Sirius only nodded. The others fervently hoped that this signalled agreement.  
  
For a while, the lesson continued uninterrupted.  
  
"I can't wait for lunch," Peter muttered near the very end. "We've Hogwarts Pudding for desert."  
  
"Do we really?" James and Remus exchanged glances. Even Sirius looked mildly interested: the castle-shaped chocolate dessert was nothing to sneeze at, even for an ascetic.  
  
"You know what _that_ means," James breathed.  
  
"Lunch will be exceptionally well attended," Remus agreed, "Everyone will be there."  
  
Peter's face sank. "I have a feeling you two mean everyone except _us_..."  
  
The others grinned. "Well, the Slytherin quarters should be mostly empty," James said.  
  
"I told you the answer would float up from our inner depths," Sirius said, breaking his vow. "In this case, Peter's stomach."  
  
  
  
All they had to do, then, was get through a double dose of History Of Magic. This, each boy accomplished in his own way: James by staring out of the window and fantasizing about the Slytherin break-in, Peter by regretting the lost pudding, and Sirius by listening to lecture and meditating on man's cruelty to man, and troll's cruelty to goblin.  
  
Remus, meanwhile, spent the whole time staring dead ahead at Professor Binns, fixedly ignoring Yoshiko who kept winking at him. The all-time low came when she sent him a note.  
  
The piece of parchment it was on was decorated with kittens, which looked oddly defenceless and edible to Remus. But it was he, in turn, who felt defenceless when he read that Yoshiko was inviting him out for a walk after dinner, and when he discovered that she liked dotting all her "i"s with little hearts.  
  
Seeing his friend's predicament, James quickly saved him from confusion by taking the parchment away from him, writing "Sorry Yosh, he's dating Talulah", and then sending the note back before Remus could protest.  
  
After a moment of gratitude, Remus was struck by a dark thought.  
  
"Oh, no, Talulah," he whispered. "I'm supposed to be seeing _her_ at lunch!"  
  
"Yeah, how _awful_," James replied. "Oooh, if you don't turn up, she might even _dump_ you!"  
  
It was really too much to hope for, and yet Remus felt guilty for hoping. And so the lesson went on, with Remus left to his self-recriminations.  
  
  
  
Endless as H of M classes might often seem, this one did end, and not a minute too soon. And when it did, our heroes wasted no time in getting down to the dungeons and breaking out Livia's highly stylized map. Naturally, James quickly took over as navigator, and they set out through the dark stone tunnels following his very enthusiastic instructions.  
  
Their good spirits dampened slightly, however, as they walked through passageway after passageway, with no Slytherin entrance in sight.  
  
Peter was affected the most. "I'm sure we've walked the length _and_ breadth of the school now," he moaned, "and all on an empty stomach..."  
  
"Peter does have a point, guys," Remus said, drawing to a stop by a suit of spiked armour, "I think that we should just admit that we are lost."  
  
"We are _not_ lost," James stated flatly. "I'll figure this map out in a moment."  
  
"Admitting that you have a problem," Sirius announced, "Is the first step on the road to recovery."  
  
"Fine, we're lost. Happy?" Hunger was making Peter _very_ irritable.  
  
"I think I've figured it out," James announced at length. "We have to go through the door on the right of this set of armour."  
  
"Ah yes, the set of armour," Remus nodded. "Isn't this exactly the same suit of armour at which we turned left earlier? Note the detailwork on the vambraces. And this label saying 'enchanted in Thailand.'"  
  
"Didn't the other suit have a picture of a plate of croissants hanging over it?" Peter licked his lips.  
  
"Well spotted, Peter," Remus said. "But, as the picture above _this_ one contains a very fat man having what appears to be a post-lunch nap, I am not sure that this is a contradiction."  
  
"You know, we could wake him..." Sirius said, eyeing the snoring man speculatively, "After all, has it not been said that he who asks for directions, shall find?"  
  
"We are _not_," James interrupted, "asking _anyone_ for _any_ directions. Anyway, I think I've figured this map out. What we have to do now is go North-South."  
  
There was a momentary pause. Peter made as if to move in all directions at once.  
  
"Ah, James," Remus said evenly, "I think you'll find that North-South is _not_, actually, a valid compass direction."  
  
"You're right," James muttered. "This doesn't say NS, it says MS. Morph-South."  
  
"Morph-South!" Sirius was interested. "I know that spell. It's the one transvestites use!"  
  
"Why am I not surprised that _you_ know that?" James muttered.  
  
"It's pretty similar to the Animagus spells," Sirius shrugged, "Besides, you're only disturbed because you're afraid to get in touch with your feminine side."  
  
"Oh, James doesn't even _have_ a feminine side," Peter said loyally.  
  
"You may be right," Sirius mused. "In that case, he'd better try to learn from those who do."  
  
"What, girls?" James asked. "Tricky... Hmmm... Maybe Remus could give me some pointers," he grinned at his friend.  
  
Remus' eyes flashed with quickly-contained irritation. "Please drop it, James," he said. "And, incidentally, you might want to try turning that map you are holding upside down."  
  
James looked at him suspiciously, but followed his instructions.  
  
"Aha! It's not Morph-South at all! It's South-West!" he exclaimed. "I believe that's over there. You know, Remus," he sighed as they started walking, "perhaps you should take over the map."  
  
Remus raised his eyebrows at such an unusually humble offer. "I'm not sure... I know I'm good at this when we're outside, but all these odd-smelling corridors do confuse me."  
  
"You may be right about what," Peter nodded. "Your sense of direction seems a bit off, the way you went up to the girl's dorm last night instead of ours."  
  
"Oh, no, _that_ was quite necessary," Remus answered.  
  
Peter thought about this for a bit. "You don't mean," he said tentatively, "that you _had_ to do it because you had accidentally cast Morph-South on yourself?"  
  
"No, I had to do it to get this map from Livia," Remus explained patiently. "But this situation really _is_ getting increasingly surreal, and we're wasting quite a bit of time. Why don't we give the map to Sirius, our acknowledged leading explorer."  
  
It was quite true, Sirius was usually the best when it came to maps, discoveries, and raids. The general consensus was that, had Sirius sailed with Columbus, the two would have discovered India, America, _and_ Atlantis. And that at least one of these locations would have been named Siria.  
  
But, what with the curse, who knew? Sirius himself provided the answer.  
  
"I do realize that I am usually quite interested in exploring this wide world we live in," he nodded sagely. "But today, I am more interested in the inner map of my soul."  
  
"Your _what_?" James asked curtly.  
  
"My inner map," Sirius spoke normally, in the same tones in which he usually answered questions such as 'what's for dinner?' and 'who set fire to Severus, again?'. "You guys should all consider your inner maps, too."  
  
"Oh, I know _mine_ well," Remus mumbled. "It says 'Danger: here be werewolves.'"  
  
"When you're all quite finished..." James said, stepping off into a room. "Perhaps you might help me search this chamber for an iron maiden."  
  
"Why?" Peter asked.  
  
"So I can shut you up in one," James snapped.  
  
"Ooooh," Peter trembled. Noticing a sarcophagus-like object with the head of a Mona Lisa, he quickly scuttered across to it and attempted to shield it from James' gaze with own his not-insubstantial bulk.  
  
"Oh, well done, Peter," Remus said, looking over James' shoulder to compare the object he'd found with the one drawn on the map. "That's the door to the Slytherin dorm, you know."  
  
"Oh, _right_. Great!" Peter stepped away from the Maiden, relieved.  
  
James smiled at him, apologetically. His mood had notably improved. "Fine, now for the password", he announced. "The note says it's all torture devices this week, but we'll have to guess what precise device will work today... I'll start: Whips!" he exclaimed quickly.  
  
But the door to the Maiden did not budge.  
  
"Thumb-screws!" Remus said.  
  
"Bread and water!" Peter suggested.  
  
"That's _not_ a torture device, Peter"  
  
"No, it's the path to enlightenment..."  
  
"Oh, do shut up, Sirius... The rack!"  
  
"The wheel!"  
  
It _was_ the wheel, apparently. The Maiden swung open...  
  
Looking at each other a bit uncertainly, the boys paused on the threshold. They wanted to savour this moment. They could hardly believe it: this was Eldorado, the Slytherin dorm!  
  
What happened next proved that gloating _does_ pay, for the dark corridor behind the portal was suddenly filled with the sound of rapidly-approaching footsteps. That brief pause had helped them avoid an early and ignoble capture.  
  
"Professor Asquith!" James gasped, recognizing the limping gait of the Slytherin head of house.  
  
The boys shrunk back, fumbling to get under the Invisibility Cloak.  
  
It was a difficult fit. They had all grown, lately. Moreover, Sirius was, once again, proving to be a problem, as they just couldn't make him shut some book he'd picked up somewhere along the way.  
  
"You guys go on," Remus said after a few desperate moments. "I'll keep Asquith busy. It's a blessing, in a way: with me keeping an eye on him, you won't have to worry about him once you're inside."  
  
So, James and Peter somehow managed to spread the cloak over both the book-struck Sirius and themselves, and Remus shut the Maiden and sat down to await the footsteps.  
  
Professor Asquith appeared right on cue, walking with measured strides. "Thought I'd heard some noise over here," he said, peering down at Remus. "Well, well, Lupin?"  
  
Remus stood up, meeting the Professor's gaze. "I wanted to talk to you, Professor," he said.  
  
Professor Asquith merely waited.  
  
Remus truly rose to the occasion. "Today's class," he started, "reminded me of something... You talked about blood-loving monsters, and I couldn't help wondering if that book... the one in the library, if that was written by you."  
  
"Ye-es," the Professor replied. "Difficult material, that. Shouldn't be surprised that _you_'re interested, though. Being the fine student you are, that is."  
  
Remus was a bit disoriented by the praise, but quickly remembered what he'd meant to say. "The part about Red Caps..." he started.  
  
"Ah, yes, the Red Caps!" Asquith exclaimed, in the tones of someone seizing upon a pet subject. "Saw them many times out in the fields of Flanders, popping up out of the ground with our dead only a month gone... Come this way, and I will show you some photographs..."  
  
Their voices faded off down the corridor.  
  
James let out a deep sign. "Trust Remus to know how to talk to a teacher," he said. "Sometimes, it's almost as if he was one of them. Oh, well," he turned back to the Maiden, "here's hoping the coast is clear _now_: the Wheel!"  
  
The secret door opened up again. This time, the remaining three Marauders walked in quite quickly.  
  
  
  
Inside the dorm, it was dark and cool, darker and cooler than inside their own living quarters. The pictures on the walls seemed subtly different too: the portraits were sterner, the landscapes starker, and the still-lives more likely to feature dead birds and daggers.  
  
The opening passage-ways had a rather maze-like quality to them. And, sure enough, the map described them as 'The Slytherin Maze: here there be bear traps.'  
  
"Bear traps?" Peter shivered as they contemplated the parchment.  
  
"I'm sure," James said firmly, "that there will be no bear traps on the route Livia's marked out for us. Besides, it's not like any of us _are_ bears... Come on, now, both of you..."  
  
He was having a rather hard time of it, carrying the map and dragging along both the reluctant Peter and the suddenly bookish Sirius.  
  
"Sirius doesn't see very useful today, does he?" Peter whispered. "What if we run into some Slytherins? There's only three of us! Do you think there's any chance he'll turn into a _militant_ monk?"  
  
James shrugged. "Hey, Sirius," he said, waving an irritated hand before his friend's eyes, "What book _is_ that, anyway? The Bible?"  
  
"No. Poetry," Sirius replied. "You know," he said wonderingly, "This Marvell guy really got it right. _'The grave's a fine and private place, but none, I think, do there embrace.'_ That's just so _true_!"  
  
"That couplet," James pointed out, with care, "Doesn't sound very ascetic."  
  
"Oh, I'm through with asceticism," Sirius announced breezily. "From now on, it's all about _living life_."  
  
As they dragged him off along the corridor, James and Peter couldn't help reflecting how odd it was that it had taken an entire poem to convince Sirius of what he normally felt quite instinctively.  
  
They thought it might mean trouble. They were to be proved right.  
  
  
  
After following the path marked out on the map for at least ten minutes, the boys rewarded by the appearance of a carpet and the occasional wooden door. They had finally reached an area hospitable enough to be some sort of living quarters.  
  
"Wow," Peter commented. "Do you think all the Slytherins have to walk this far whenever they forget a book in their room, or something? It would explain quite a lot about them."  
  
"Nah," James replied. "I think there must be short-cuts, guarded by magical wards or something. This path has certainly been free of complications, so far."  
  
The only current complication was that the doors they were now passing clearly led to various living areas. And that these living areas did not seem to be _entirely_ empty of students: the boys could hear occasional voices, most often when approaching an open door. Fortunately, with the help of the cloak, they were able to walk past those danger points quite quickly and without detection.  
  
Until, that is, they passed by the seventh-form girls' common room.  
  
"WO-OW," Sirius gasped, forcing the little group to stop before an open door.  
  
The Girl was standing at a narrow window, gazing out of it moodily. Her classical profile contrasted pleasantly with the rough-hewn, dark stone, and pale blonde her tumbled down to her shoulders. She _was_ pretty.  
  
"Isn't she the most beautiful person you have ever seen?" Sirius breathed. "I _must_, _must_ speak to her.."  
  
"Have you gone _insane_?" James hissed, pulling him back. "Insaner, I mean? That's Narcissia Lepervanche. She's dating that Malfoy guy, he's heaps older, he'll..."  
  
"Doesn't she have a lost, faraway air?" Sirius interrupted blithely. "My soul soars with longing... Tell me, James, is _this_ how you feel about that Lily girl?"  
  
"Lily girl?" Peter asked.  
  
"Shut-up-shut-up," James stammered out at Sirius, annoyed for more reasons than one. "You'll ruin _everything_!"  
  
"But such a moment comes only once in a lifetime," Sirius sighed. And, ducking under James' restraining arm, he was out of the cloak and through the open door.  
  
  
  
Narcissia heard him enter, and spun around. "What do _you_ want?" she asked sharply, a sour expression ruining the lines of her face.  
  
Love was, however, blind to this.  
  
"Has anyone ever told you that you are the most glorious thing under the sun?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Yes," Narcissa replied shortly, raising her chin. "Now, get out, whoever you are."  
  
The fact that Narcissa considered him so far beneath her that she had not even recognized him did nothing to faze Sirius. He smiled at her, and re-opened his book.  
  
"Yes. How silly of me. You must be used to hearing compliments, to the point of boredom." He nodded sagely. "I should have realized that..."  
  
_ Many have loved your moments of glad grace,  
And loved your beauty with love false or true,  
_  
Here Sirius paused for a breath. "But," he began again,  
  
_ But this man loves the pilgrim soul in you,  
And loves the sorrows of your changing face  
_  
Well, the changing face part was accurate, anyway. Narcissa's expression softened. It was probably a safe guess that none of the powerful men she normally preferred had ever tried _this_ poetic approach.  
  
While not necessarily won over, she was certainly intrigued.  
  
"What's that book?" she asked curiously.  
  
Sirius stepped in to show it to her, flipping through the pages to find Shelley.  
  
James had had enough. Seeing Sirius act this way in earnest was enough to make one cross-eyed. Besides, they had a job to do, and rescuing their friend, if done against his own will, was almost sure to ruin any chance they might have of success.  
  
No, leaving Sirius where he was seemed by far the best option. James nudged Peter, and the two remaining Marauders crept along in the direction of the older boys' quarters.  
  
  
  
They didn't really need the map any more, as the air they walked through changed. The scents of sulphur and thunder drifted along the corridor, the walls of which were marked by the scars of ancient duels. Every door was, in some way, marked with mysterious sigils, some of which looked as if they'd been drawn in blood.  
  
"This is supposed to be Snape's room," James whispered as quietly as he could, pausing before a room where the smell of dark potions gone wrong was the strongest. "Shall we?"  
  
He could feel Peter nodding beside him. And so, after checking for booby traps, they opened the door.  
  
The first thing they saw was a mirror, reflecting the light of seven shapeless candles.  
  
The second thing they saw was the same light, reflected by a pair of vigilant, half-crazed eyes.  
  
"So!" Snape said, jumping to his feet and moving towards them purposefully. "You _have_ fallen into my trap, Potter..."  
  
His expression was so intensely focused that it took our heroes a moment to remember that he couldn't actually _see_ them, not under the Cloak. Taking the trembling Peter forcibly by the shoulders, James pulled them both backwards, out of Snape's way.  
  
And not a moment to soon, for Snape was accelerating: as he sped out of the door, a strand of his greasy dark hair passed not an inch in front of Peter's nose.  
  
Peter struggled with the urge to sneeze as James dragged him further away, stopping a few yards off, behind a cabinet housing a shrunken head collection.  
  
Snape, meanwhile, had paused right outside his door, and was turning his head this way and that, keeping the entire corridor covered with his wand.  
  
"You weren't expecting _me_, were you?" he spoke out loud, his voice dripping with spite. "Have you _ran away?_ Not far, I am sure: I can see the only exit from here, and you haven't had time to reach _that_, surely?"  
  
James' mind raced as he attempted to assess the situation. It was true that the only way out was the way they had come; and it was equally true that Snape was blocking the door leading into his room. Should they just make a run for the the mirror and try to smash it? He couldn't help wishing that Sirius was there to advise him...  
  
"I think you're hiding somewhere, Potter," Snape's amused voice continued. "How very _clever_ of you, to think of hiding when these corridors will be swarming with my classmates within the hour... I'll just wait here, then, shall I?" he finished courteously.  
  
Snape's taunts and cackles did a fair job of covering up James and Peter's quiet conversation.  
  
"Come on, let's curse him!" Peter whispered.  
  
"We can't curse a man who can't see us!" James was utterly shocked at the idea.  
  
"Oh, then we're _doomed_!" Peter wailed quietly. Wasn't James taking this honour thing a bit too far?  
  
"No, we're not," James answered. "He clearly doesn't know about the cloak."  
  
"Oh, right! Let's just run past him, then!" Peter suggested.  
  
"We've come this far, we won't get Snape stop us _now_," James answered. "Now, let me see... How about this? We'll split up. One of us will have to distract him and draw him deeper in. The other will make a run for the mirror and smash it."  
  
James awaited Peter's answer with some trepidation. Both the roles were, he knew, far too adventurous for his timid friend. Still, a boy could hope...   
  
"I'm _not_ distracting him," Peter replied at last. "He's _insane_. He missed _lunch_ to catch us."  
  
"Fine. You get the mirror," James said, breathing easier. "We'll do it right now," he continued before Peter could change his mind. "Just remember: you'll have to start moving once I've got him away from the door. Good luck."  
  
And, after clapping his friend on the shoulder, James stepped out from under the cloak and from behind the cabinet.  
  
"Here I am, Severus," he said, assuming the conventional dueling position.  
  
"Ahhhh... Potter," Severus smiled nastily. "You _were_ out there, then. Do you realize that I wasn't even _sure_? I didn't know if you had it in you to discover a way in... But I suppose even you pure-hearted Gryffindors have your little ways. Speaking of which, do you have any idea how many points your pathetic little house will lose as a result of this little escapade?"  
  
"You'll tell the teachers?" James raised his eyebrows. "Even though your friends could be punished for casting such a Dark curse?"  
  
"Oh, I won't tell them about _that_," Snape moved a bit closer. "And neither will you, not unless you want all your feeble attempts at removing it discovered."  
  
Peter, concealed by the cloak, watched the two circling boys breathlessly, convinced that any moment now Snape would hear the rapid beat of his heart or the nervous gurgles in his stomach. How could a boy even think about moving under these circumstances? He'd been a fool to agree to grab that mirror, he decided.  
  
"I thought even you had more guts than this, Snape," James was saying quietly. "I never thought you'd be one to run for the teachers when faced with a duel."  
  
"A duel - against you and all your little gang?" Snape snarled. "I'm sorry, Potter, I just don't like those odds..."  
  
"I assure you, Snape, that we are alone," James replied.  
  
When he heard his friend's sincere tones, something snapped inside Peter's head. James believed him to be long gone! James was staking his honour on it! He, Peter, was making James a liar: and, oh, how James would hate that...  
  
Peter just couldn't let it happen to his friend. He focused, recalling his own recent glorious victories, and felt his courage grow. Jumping out from his gruesome hiding place, he scurried into Snape's room as fast as his little legs would carry him.  
  
James and Severus grew silent, preparing to duel, but Peter could no longer see them. He was racing away towards the girls' section, cradling the mirror.  
  
  
  
Peter ran for as long as his lungs let him: a good three minutes. When, at last, he paused to catch his breath, he felt oddly triumphant. It had _not_ been that hard after all! Well, the _doing_ had not been too bad, he decided. It was the steeling yourself to do it that was the problem. He decided to file that fact away for future reference.  
  
Meanwhile, as he stood there, contemplating the recent events, he suddenly realized that his task was not quite done: the mirror he held was quite whole. So, pushing away the thought of seven years' bad luck, he raised the mirror high in the air, and threw it down as hard as it could. His free hand came up to shield his eyes from flying shards...  
  
Which proved to be totally unnecessary. The mirror hit the ground with an unimpressive clunk; it even seemed to bounce a little.  
  
He picked it up and threw it down again, this time targeting an uncarpeted stretch of floor.  
  
The mirror fell down flat, and just lay there. When he looked at it, Peter could see his own curious face peering back, unmarred by cracks.  
  
Annoyed, he stomped on the mirror, jumping up and down several times for good measure.  
  
And yet, the accursed mirror remained whole.  
  
It was enough to frustrate anybody! Was there some kind of spell on the silly thing? Peter did not have the skill to find out. He decided to get out of the dorm as fast as possible, and ask another Marauder.  
  
But then, looking around, he realized that he had no idea where he was. And that James still had the map. And that there were bear traps around here, somewhere.  
  
To top it all off, he was hungry. Peter sank down to the ground and started dabbing at his eyes with the edge of the Cloak.  
  
He was so absorbed in muffling his shameful sobs that he did not notice the figure walking fluidly along the corridor until a shadow passed over the ground at his feet. Trembling, Peter looked up and beheld the shadow's owner. It was quite a surprise.  
  
"Sirius?" he asked, tentatively.  
  
"Um, yes, Peter." Sirius said, unable to prevent himself from looking for the source of the voice even though he knew this was silly. "James? You there too?"  
  
"No!" Peter squeaked. "James is dueling with Snape! And I have the mirror: I couldn't break it!" His voice broke, instead, as he listed his numerous woes. "And I'm late for Astronomy! And lost!"   
  
"Calm down, Peter, you're _not_ lost." Sirius shook his head at nobody in particular. "You just don't know where you are. Now, breathe in deeply... and out... and in again... and think of the ocean..."  
  
These helpful suggestions had the effect of confusing Peter so much that he stopped weeping.  
  
"Calmer? Good," Sirius continued. "Now listen: my beloved Narcissa has had to leave for class," he sighed painfully, "but, before leaving, she has shown me a faster way out... Why don't you make use of it?"  
  
That sounded good to Peter. "Where is it? Oh, do show me!"  
  
"Before I do, I'd like you to give me the cloak and the mirror," Sirius announced.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I've got some enlightening to do."  
  
This made about as much sense to Peter as everything else, so he agreed. He handed over the two objects: the mirror, with relief, and the cloak, nervously. In return, was led to a passageway behind a violet tapestry portraying scenes of random violence.  
  
And, in no time at all, he was on his way up the Astronomy tower.  
  
  
  
He _was_ late for class, as it turned out, but only a little. Remus looked up with a vague smile as he entered; but of the other Marauders there was no sign.  
  
In his nervous state, it took Peter an hour's worth of whispers to explain to Remus what he knew of the day's events. And, even so, Remus was still mildly confused at the end of the lesson. Unfortunately, neither James or Sirius appeared to dispell his confusion, not even when the boys moved on to Potions. The only new piece of information they acquired there was that Snape was missing, too, which did cheer them up a little.  
  
Remus found this all very stressful. He knew James might well be in the hospital wing, recovering from the duel, but the idea of going there to check filled him with dread for, um, personal reasons. Even worse, he could just picture the havoc Sirius might be wreaking out there somewhere, with or without the mirror. As a result of all this, Remus was visibly tense as he sat at his desk. The fact that a couple of girls offered to give him back-rubs did _not_ help.  
  
And so, the hours passed. It was not until Remus and Peter went up to drop their books off before dinner that everything was explained at last.  
  
  
  
As the two climbed up the stairs, Remus permitted himself a little twinge of optimism. Surely, he thought, at least _one_ of the missing friends might be up there?  
  
Opening the door, he let out an enormous, relieved sigh. His uncustomary optimism had _not_ been unfounded, after all.  
  
James was resting on his own bed. He wasn't looking very well: in fact, he seemed to be a little fuzzy round the edges, but he was definitely _there_.  
  
"James!" Peter shouted out joyously.  
  
"Silence is golden, Peter," Sirius muttered from his window-seat, raising up one hand as if in benediction. "Especially when we have an invalid in the room. James has been struck down by a bad case of the Melting Curse."  
  
"Hey, you should see the other guy," James said defensively, feeling everyone's eyes upon him.  
  
"Yes, poor Severus," Sirius replied. "He's got Jelly Legs, Custard Elbows, _and_ tree fungus all over his face. Although," he added with a whimsical smile, "I do envy him the latter. At least he's getting in touch with nature."  
  
"Ah, very good." Remus nodded. "Sirius, I may be going out on a _limb_ here, but you haven't broken the mirror yet, have you?"  
  
"Right, as usual," Sirius replied brightly. "I had other ideas."  
  
"Oh, right!" Peter recalled. "You wanted to set someone alight!"  
  
"I wanted to _enlighten_ someone, Peter," Sirius corrected him. "I thought I'd give our friend Severus a taste of his own curse."  
  
"I see..." Remus smiled. "You paid him a visit in the infirmary, then? But why didn't it work?"  
  
"Oh, it did..." Sirius sighed.  
  
"It certainly did," James laughed. "Sirius hadn't been tied to him an hour when Snape started looking oddly thoughtful. He then told me that he was sorry, that he had always admired my courage, and that he hoped I could find it in my heart to be his friend."  
  
"And what did _you_ say?" Peter asked.  
  
"Oh, I accepted his apology, of course," James continued. "It was the decent thing to do, and it went over quite well. But then things got a bit awkward."  
  
"Yes, they did," Sirius nodded. "I was quite happy to listen to all of Severus' problems for a couple of hours. But he didn't seem to appreciate my suggestion that he take up yoga, and when he started crying and saying that all he wanted was a kitten he could love..."  
  
"Well, let's just say I persuaded Sirius to untie himself and leave," James finished. "An act of mercy, believe me."  
  
"Sounds like it," Remus said. "One thing does bother me, though: how will Severus react when he returns to normal, and remembers pouring his heart out to you two?"  
  
"Hmmm..." James ruminated. "I suppose he might hate us. Hate us more, I mean." This though did not seem to worry him unduly.  
  
"Well, now that it's all sorted out," Peter said brightly, "Maybe we could all go to dinner!"  
  
"Good idea," Sirius inhaled deeply. "I want to gaze upon Narcissa's beauty once again..."  
  
"Sirius, I'd like to ask you a question..." Remus began.  
  
"Oh, don't you worry, I've sorted it all out," Sirius interrupted him, beaming.  
  
"Sorted _what_ out?"  
  
"Back in the hospital wing, I popped over to see your girl Talulah," Sirius said earnestly, "And I explained everything about you having to see Professor Asquith at lunch. She was quite understanding: you might want to take her for a walk after dinner."  
  
The other three boys stared at him, flabbergasted.  
  
"Sirius," Remus said with quiet intensity, "I do _not_ want to date Talulah."  
  
"Oh, I know you have issues with intimacy," Sirius' smile was quite indulgent, "But, really, I think that you will find..."  
  
"I think that I will find that mirror," Remus started pacing around the room, searching, "and smash it to bits _right now_."  
  
"I'll help you," James said. "He was singing Tibetian chants before you came in, and I am not sure how much more of _that_ I can take. I don't understand it: I thought that Sirius' inverse persona would be _non_-irritating."  
  
"This is not exactly my _inverse_ persona, though, is it?" Sirius asked.  
  
"What do you mean?" Peter was rubbing at his temple. "I'm not the only one confused by him, am I?" he asked the others, who shook their heads emphatically in reply.  
  
"What I mean," Sirius explained, "Is that it doesn't seem to me that the Speculum curse actually _reverses_ one's personality."  
  
"But isn't that what the book said?" James frowned.  
  
"No, what the book said," Remus recalled, "Was that the curse reveals what might normally be hidden."  
  
"Exactly," Sirius announced, "Like James' insecurities, Peter's violent tendencies, Remus' fun-loving side... and my own spirituality."  
  
Everyone looked at him a bit doubtfully.  
  
"I don't really want to think that my weakness is a permanent part of me," James shuddered.  
  
"Oh, I hope that mine was!" Peter exclaimed.  
  
"The theory makes a little bit of sense, I suppose," Remus shrugged, "But it's really too vague for me to buy entirely. Not unlike most of the other wise statements you have made today, in fact. Actually," he continued, struck by a thought, "It just sounds like an obvious attempt to have this little adventure teach us all something about ourselves."  
  
"Well, hasn't it?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Oh, don't answer that, Remus," James put in. "He's just trying to distract us so we won't break the mirror."  
  
"It's got a charm on it, or something," Peter reminded them all.  
  
"Yes, it does," James replied, "But I think the Fractum spell should deal with that. You with us, Sirius?"  
  
"Sure," Sirius said. "Shall we do it together, then?"  
  
"I think so," Remus replied.  
  
  
  
The four boys took out their wands and cast their spell, all at once. The mirror _did_ shatter, fortunately injuring nothing but a chair leg.  
  
Still, some might say that it must have done the Marauders some harm, for, though the next two years passed peacefully enough, the subsequent five were far from easy.  
  
And, who knows, perhaps that's what exactly the Slytherins intended?  
  
  
  
But such dark thoughts were far from our heroes' minds as they finally made their way down to the Banquet Hall.  
  
Remus, for one, was too busy worrying about the present to spare a thought for the remote future. "I still can't believe you've _apologized_ to Talulah..." he sighed quietly.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll fix it," the Un-Cursed Sirius announced. "Just for you, I'll ask her out myself. She _will_ have to choose between us, but I trust that she'll make the only sane choice... especially after I tell her you are gay."  
  
Remus passed a hand over his eyes, opening his mouth as if to say something.  
  
"Sirius," James interrupted, "Aren't you already seeing Malicia?"  
  
"Oh, right!" Sirius grinned. "I think she really likes me. Do you think I'll get lucky?"  
  
  
  
To make a long (and irrelevant) story short, Sirius got slapped by at least two girls that evening. So, one could say that everything was back to normal.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius says: Reviewing REALLY improves your Karma. Especially when a series ends. Om.  
  
Disclaimer: Almost everything here belongs to J.K.Rowling, of course. The poems are by Marvell and Yeats, and are paraphrased slightly.  



End file.
